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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597161">galaxies growing inside of me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeBean/pseuds/SkyeBean'>SkyeBean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>galaxies growing inside of me [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Things Still Happen, Explicit Language, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Good Mordred (Merlin), I mean, Mordred is adorable, Protective Merlin, basically mordred lives in camelot, but it's not as bad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:28:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>76,176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeBean/pseuds/SkyeBean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of smuggling Mordred out of Camelot at the first opportunity, which is the most suspicious option in Merlin's opinion, the decision is instead made to pretend that the boy is someone else entirely for a few weeks and only then return him to the druids.<br/></p><p>It works out better than expected, and what was a one-off becomes something of a regular practice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen &amp; Merlin (Merlin), Gwen &amp; Mordred (Merlin), Gwen &amp; Morgana (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Mordred (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Morgana (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>galaxies growing inside of me [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>416</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was revising for my exams and then my brain went 'you know what would be cool? doing anything else', and then I got distracted and wrote my first merlin fic. so...enjoy, I guess</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin had long had a problem with letting his mouth speak before his brain could catch up, but until that day he’d never suffered anything that had quite the same consequences, long term, before. Years later, he’d point to that moment and say ‘that’s when everything changed’. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.</p><p>              “We can take him in.”</p><p>There was a very sudden silence, and all three of the others – four, if you included the barely-conscious druid boy who refused to speak out loud – turned to stare at him. It took a moment for any of them to properly process what Merlin had suggested. That was good; it gave him time to process it too.</p><p>              “We’ll do <em>what</em>?” Gaius asked. His left eyebrow, which was always raised, somehow climbed higher up his forehead.</p><p>              “Take him in,” Merlin repeated, more confidently now that he’d had a few moments. “He can stay in my room. We can treat him there.”</p><p>              “And how,” Gaius asked, in that tone that meant he thought Merlin was the biggest idiot he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, “will you explain that to the guards? To Prince Arthur?” He hesitated, then added, “To the <em>king</em>?”</p><p>Merlin considered it a moment. “We could say he’s my…cousin.”</p><p>              “Your cousin,” Gaius repeated, sceptical.</p><p>              “On my mother’s side.”</p><p>For the first time, one of the others spoke; Gwen said, “They do have the same hair?” It sounded more like a question than anything else, but Merlin appreciated that she was trying.</p><p>              “They have <em>black </em>hair,” Gaius said, “that doesn’t mean it’s the <em>same</em>. Besides, do you not think that perhaps the King will find it suspicious for your ‘cousin’, who exactly matches the description of the druid boy, to arrive just as they’re searching for him?”</p><p>              “It’s, you know, that thing.” Merlin wracked his brain, trying to remember the phrase he’d read in one of Arthur’s strategy books.</p><p>              “<em>That</em> <em>thing</em>.”</p><p>Gaius was the only person Merlin had ever met who had the art of the judgmental tone down to a science. Except perhaps his mother; she was very good at it too. Possibly genetic, but then why hadn't Merlin inherited it?</p><p>              “You know, where you make people think that it couldn’t possibly be the thing that they’re looking for, because surely no one thinks they’re <em>that </em>stupid.” Merlin gestured in Morgana’s direction; the Lady looked faintly surprised. “Morgana did it, to trick Arthur into not looking in the one place where the druid boy actually was.”</p><p>There was silence for another moment, wherein Gwen and Morgana and Gaius all exchanged <em>looks</em>, and then Gwen said, “I could gather some supplies that he would have brought with him?”</p><p>              “Perfect,” Merlin said, “I hadn’t even thought of that. What else would we need?”</p><p>              “Hang on one moment,” Morgana said.</p><p>She glanced around, like she thought someone might overhear them in her room. Merlin supposed that they <em>were </em>talking treason, with the King’s ward no less, so she was probably right to be wary. At the very least.</p><p>              “I know Arthur acts like a fool for the majority of his time, but even I don’t think he would be able to ignore <em>such</em> an obvious trick.”</p><p>Merlin raised an eyebrow in a poor imitation of Gaius. “But <em>is </em>it an obvious trick?”</p><p>              “I think it is,” Gwen said, wincing. “Your very sick cousin turns up in your rooms at the exact same moment that Camelot is looking for a druid boy?”</p><p>              “Arthur <em>is </em>that stupid, though,” Merlin insisted. “I had to help him put on his socks this morning. His <em>socks</em>. Do you know how stupid you have to be to not be able to put on your own socks?” When no one immediately answered, he did it himself: “<em>Very stupid</em>. Stupid enough to overlook your servant’s cousin visiting for a few weeks.”</p><p>              “A few <em>weeks</em>?” Gaius said, even more incredulous that before. “You want the boy to stay with us for a few <em>weeks</em>?”</p><p>              “Well, yes,” Merlin said, confused. Wasn’t he being obvious? “He stays with us for two or three weeks, gets better, makes friends with some people so they’d feel guilty about killing him, <em>then</em> we can take him back to the druids and no one’s any the wiser.”</p><p>Another pause. Then:</p><p>              “I suppose that Arthur would be more reluctant to accuse the boy if he thought it would hurt Merlin,” Morgana offered. “Less likely to let him be thrown in the dungeons, knowing that Merlin would be upset.”</p><p>Merlin scrunched his face up. “Probably be more likely to, if it’s my cousin.”</p><p>Gwen and Morgana both gave him looks that were far too close to pitying for Merlin’s liking; Gaius just looked exasperated.</p><p>              “Morgana’s right,” Gwen said, glancing at the boy again. “This is a plan that could work.”</p><p>              “Emphasis on the ‘could’,” Gaius muttered. He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, then turned to look at the two women. “I need to have a quick talk with Merlin.”</p><p>              “Oh, of course.” Gwen pushed to her feet, then held out a hand for Morgana to do the same; they moved across the room, to behind the screen.</p><p>Gaius immediately leaned in closer to Merlin, his voice turning low and worried. “Merlin, I’m wary of unnecessary scrutiny being placed on you, given—” he glanced in the direction of the others “—everything.”</p><p>              “I’ll be fine,” Merlin reassured him, not bothering to match the quiet tone that Gaius had taken. “Arthur thinks I’m an idiot who couldn’t commit a crime if he wanted to. Remember when I tried to confess to sorcery to save Gwen?”</p><p>There was faint gasp that sounded a lot like Gwen, and then a murmured conversation broke out. Merlin ignored it.</p><p>              “I do remember,” Gaius said, a little dryly. “If you’re sure about this…”</p><p>Seeing his chance, Merlin took it. “I am sure! One hundred percent. It’s far less suspicious than sneaking him out of the castle.”</p><p>              “I suppose you might be right about that.”</p><p>Merlin gasped dramatically. “Did you just say I might be right? I want that on the record.”</p><p>Gaius chuckled, some worried line on his face fading. Merlin couldn’t help the relief that surged at Gaius’ agreement. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. You must be hearing things.”</p><p>              “Says the old man.”</p><p>              “Says the <em>physician</em>.”</p><p>              “Are you two done yet?” Merlin turned to see Gwen poking her head around the screen, an eyebrow raised.</p><p>Merlin grinned at her and nodded. “Yep. Gaius has agreed to our plan.”</p><p>              “Your plan,” Gwen corrected teasingly.</p><p>              “No,” Morgana said. The words were slow and drawn out. “I think…that if this is going to work, then we all need to be fully committed. For that reason, it must be <em>our </em>plan.”</p><p>Unable to hid his smile, Merlin nodded again. “Cool.”</p><p>              “Gwen, you should acquire the supplies that Mordred would have travelled with,” Morgana said, dropping into action mode. “What is our exact story? Merlin, tell us some more about your family?”</p><p>              “Well…I never knew my father,” Merlin said, “so we should probably stay away from his side. My mother is called Hunith, she raised me in a village in Cenred’s kingdom.”</p><p>              “Do you have any grandparents? Aunts, or uncles?”</p><p>Merlin shook his head. “Nah, I never my grandparents. My mother only has one sibling, and we can't use him.”</p><p>              “That changes right now,” Morgana told him very seriously. “Your mother had a sister who has a husband and they have a son.” She gestured to the druid boy. “This is him.”</p><p>              “We could say that she moved away when I was conceived.” Merlin’s face lit up. “’Cause she didn’t want to be known for her bastard nephew. So she moved to another village, with her husband, before I was born.”</p><p>He didn’t notice the shock pass across Morgana’s face at his casual referral to himself as a bastard, or the way that Gaius grimaced.</p><p>Gwen, who was a little more used to that type of thing, just rolled with it. “Yes, that’s a good story. You never met your aunt or uncle, or their nephew when he was born, but then your uncle…your uncle…<em>died</em>.” Merlin straightened, surprised at the sudden turn. “In a freak accident. And your aunt…she’s struggling to get by, so she finally contacted her sister for the first time in years and now you’re meeting your cousin for the first time.”</p><p>              “Very imaginative, Gwen,” Morgana praised, a slight smile curling her mouth. </p><p>              “Thank you, my lady,” Gwen said, dipping her head.</p><p>              “Bleak, too.”</p><p>              “Backstory is all very well and good, but Arthur still has a description of the druid boy,” Gaius said. “One that exactly matches Merlin’s ‘cousin’.”</p><p>              “I can give him some of my clothes,” Merlin suggested. “And maybe fake a letter from my mother? Like the one she wrote for you when I arrived.”</p><p>Gaius’ other eyebrow crept up his forehead. “That is…a surprisingly good idea, Merlin.”</p><p>              “What else can we do?”</p><p>All four of them turned to survey the druid boy, who was still barely conscious.</p><p>              “I could cut his hair,” Gwen said. “Dye it blond?”</p><p>Merlin couldn't his gag; Morgana <em>was </em>able to hide her laugh, with a hand over her mouth.</p><p>              “It would make him look different,” Gwen protested, her cheeks flushing. “Cutting it is <em>definitely</em> needed. And you’re right about the clothes. While I like the cloak, it needs to go.”</p><p>              “Alright,” Morgana said. “Is everyone aware of their roles?”</p><p>Gaius shook his head. “What am I to do?”</p><p>              “You’re to heal the boy.”</p><p>              “And your role?” Merlin asked.</p><p>Morgana straightened, her back like a board as her face smoothed over. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure if it was a conscious move on her part, or an instinctive reaction to her response: “I will distract Uther and Arthur while you move the boy.”</p><p>              “We can’t do that now, the whole castle’s crawling with guards and all of them are looking for <em>him</em>.” Gwen pointed to the young druid, her brow creasing with concern.</p><p>              “There’s a small feast being held tonight,” Morgana said. “You know the one.” Gwen and Gaius both nodded. “The castle guards will be focused on the entertainment, and the rest have already assumed the boy to have escaped the castle; they search mainly in the town.”</p><p>              “This is our best chance,” Gaius agreed. “Tonight.” He turned to Merlin and Gwen. “Use the servants’ passageways; everyone will be busy serving at the feast or helping in the kitchens.”</p><p>              “Okay,” Merlin said, letting a smile spread across his face. He looked to the druid boy again, and there was something confused on the boy’s face, so he grinned at him too.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>           </p><p>              “I thought he would be heavier,” Merlin muttered, mostly to himself.</p><p>Gwen, who was holding Mordred’s legs, gave him an irritated look. “We need to keep moving.”</p><p>              “I know, I know.”</p><p>              “I’m not sure you do,” she said. The words weren’t malicious, per se, but there was a quiet sadness to them. “The King isn’t…he isn’t fond of sorcerers.”</p><p><em>I know that better than most</em>, Merlin thought. <em>I’ve already seen my people killed by his hand; already helped him do it.</em></p><p>              “I may not have grown up here,” he said instead, “but the first thing I saw when I got to the castle was an execution. I’m not…Don’t think I’m taking this lightly, Gwen.”</p><p>Gwen looked at him for a moment, and Merlin had the terrifying feeling that she was seeing something in him that he’d promised his mother he would keep hidden, and then she inclined her head. “I remember that one. The son whose mother tried to murder Arthur?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin snorted. “Got me my job. I might remember her, just a little bit.”</p><p>Gwen huffed a dry laugh, a joyless smile curling at her lips as they continued onwards. No good person liked an execution, and Merlin knew that Gwen was a good person; the fact that she wasn't turning them in for Mordred proved that.</p><p>Only a few minutes from Gaius’ rooms, and their relative safety.</p><p>              “I forgot about that.”</p><p>              “I haven’t.”</p><p>              “You wouldn’t have,” Gwen said. “The King himself made you Prince Arthur’s manservant. Not exactly a day you’d forget.”</p><p>Merlin chuckled, and the sound was less bitter than he would have liked it to be. Too…warm. Like he was <em>fond </em>of Arthur. He wasn’t. “Not really, no.”</p><p>Gwen stopped very suddenly, making Merlin stop too, and he turned around, fearing guards or worse, only to see that they’d reached Gaius’ room.</p><p>              “We’ve made it,” Gwen said. Something like relief crossed her face, her shoulders relaxing.</p><p>              “Just need to get him inside now.”</p><p>The druid boy let out a faint moan when they shifted him so Merlin could take his full weight, and Merlin winced. The boy had clearly been in pain when he was lifted, and Merlin had never been a fan of hurting other people.</p><p>Though he supposed he’d given that philosophy up when he killed someone for the first time.</p><p><em>Not right now</em>, he scolded himself mentally.</p><p>              “Merlin?”</p><p>Blinking back to reality, Merlin saw that Gwen was holding the door open expectantly, and his cheeks heated as he stumbled into the physician’s chambers. Gaius wasn’t there, because Uther expected him to be at the feast, but he’d left out the potion and paste for them to give the druid boy once they got him settled.</p><p>              “Where’s he going to stay?” Gwen asked, glancing around the tidy room.</p><p>Jerking his chin, Merlin tripped across to the staircase and then up into his bedroom. “It’s the only spare bed.”</p><p>              “Well, that’s going to have to change,” Gwen said as she followed him up the stairs. “If the boy’s going to be staying for three weeks, then he’s got to have <em>somewhere </em>to sleep.”</p><p>Merlin half-dropped, half-carefully placed, the boy down on the bed; he let out a pained groan, and Merlin grimaced. “Sorry,” he muttered.</p><p>              “Here’s Gaius’ medicine.” Gwen held out the two bottles she’d picked up from the table. “Do you know how to apply it?”</p><p>              “Probably,” Merlin replied, a little absently. He thumbed the cork off one, and sniffed it. “God, that smells <em>awful</em>.” And it did: like rotten eggs wrapped up in mouldy bacon. He looked down at the druid boy. “If I had to drink this, I’d just let the infection take me.”</p><p>              “Probably?”</p><p>              “Definitely,” Merlin amended. “Never done this before, hope I never have to again, but I can <em>definitely</em> do it now.”</p><p>Using the dropper, he took a small amount from the bottle of bright blue liquid and held it out to the boy’s lips, then squeezed it out. The druid boy’s tongue flickered out, lapping it up, and then he made a face.</p><p>His nose scrunched and his forehead creased up; <em>exactly</em> like he’d just tasted rotten eggs wrapped up in mouldy bacon.</p><p>              “See?” Merlin murmured. “I was right.”</p><p>The tiniest hint of laughter flickered in the boy’s eyes, his expression clearing for just a moment, and Merlin saw that as a win.</p><p>When he turned back to Gwen, to retrieve the bottle of paste, her expression said she disagreed. A moment later, her words did too.</p><p>              “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for Gaius? He said that this part is trickier.”</p><p>Merlin glanced through the open door, and to the larger room outside. “I don’t want him to have an infection for any longer than he needs to. For the obvious reasons, obviously, but also because it’s more suspicious.”</p><p>Gwen’s eyebrows creased again, her hands moving to clutch together as she bit her lip, but she nodded anyway. “Do it, then.”</p><p>              “Okay.” Merlin glanced at the boy, just to check that he was fine with it, before rolling up his sleeve.</p><p>Once the bandage was off, Merlin could see that the wound looked a lot healthier than it had when he was attempting healing – but that was to be expected now that Gaius was on the job. He opened up the large bottle of grey-green paste, then picked up the brush to liberally smear it across the injury. Better safe than sorry.</p><p>Replacing the bandage once he was finished only took a few seconds – that part, at least, he’d grown used to in his five months with Gaius – and then Merlin rolled the sleeve back down and gave a smile to the boy.</p><p>              “There. All done for now.”</p><p>Behind him, Gwen let out a sigh of relief that Merlin felt was too deep to be deserved. “Phew.”</p><p>              “Stage two, complete.” Merlin pushed to his feet. “What was stage three again?”</p><p>              “Change his clothes,” Gwen answered. She crossed Merlin’s room in three steps, then reached into his chest of clothes to pull out one of his shirts and a pair of trousers. “I’ll sort this out, you write that letter from your mother.”</p><p>Merlin inclined his head before hurrying down the steps to find a clean piece of parchment.</p><p> </p><p>Faking his mother’s handwriting didn’t take much effort, and Merlin managed to a write a letter that was pretty similar to the one his mother had given Gaius, but also included references to the fake aunt and fake dead uncle and fake family controversy.</p><p>              “What’s that language?”</p><p>Gwen startled Merlin, and he almost jumped off the chair; instead of doing <em>that</em>, though, he took a deep breath in before turning to smile at the other servant. “It’s, uh. The language of Essetir.”</p><p>              “The language of Essetir?” Gwen repeated. She gestured vaguely to the page, a question, and Merlin waved his hand in agreement. Picking the letter up with careful fingers, Gwen’s eyes scanned the page. “I didn’t know you were from Cenred’s kingdom.”</p><p>              “Yeah.” Merlin tried for a smile; from Gwen’s raised eyebrow, it had come out pretty strangled. “I…am.”</p><p>There was silence for a moment, and then Merlin realised that Gwen was waiting for him to say more.</p><p>              “A little village called Ealdor. There’s about…twenty-five of us there. Them there, I mean.” Merlin winced as he stumbled over the wording; even though he missed very little about village life – just his mother, and Will – it had still been difficult to get used to not living there.</p><p>              “It sounds lovely,” Gwen told him, her voice soft and smooth and very convincing.</p><p>Merlin raised an eyebrow in an imitation of her earlier gesture. “I haven’t told you anything about it.”</p><p>Her cheeks flushing slightly, Gwen hurried to say, “They raised <em>you</em>. And you’re…” She cleared her throat, looked down at her feet, “I mean, you’re a good person, Merlin.”</p><p>Merlin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I try.”</p><p>              “You’re doing this.” Gwen pointed up the stairs, to the young boy lying on Merlin’s bed. “This is…a massive risk, to you more than any of us, but you’re doing this because you think it’s safest for the boy. That makes you a good person.”</p><p>              “I wouldn’t say it’s more of a risk to me,” Merlin said, frowning. “We’re in Gaius’ chambers, I’m honestly more worried about him, and both you and Morgana are doing a lot.”</p><p>Gwen shook her head. “If we’re caught, Uther won’t have evidence against me, and he won’t lay a finger on Morgana. Gaius has lived here a long time, and a lot of people are fond of him. You would be a perfect scapegoat.”</p><p>              “Well, that’s fun,” Merlin muttered under his breath.</p><p>              “I’m sorry, I thought you knew the risk you were taking,” Gwen said, twisting her hands in her skirt.</p><p>Merlin waved her concern away. “Don’t worry, it’s not like he can kill me twice. I already knew what the consequences will be if I get caught.”</p><p>              “If you’re sure…” Gwen glanced down at the letter, before carefully setting it back down in front of Merlin. “It’s a pretty language,” she offered.</p><p>Merlin smiled down at the table. “It’s not.”</p><p>              “Oh.”</p><p>              “But it’s my own,” Merlin continued. “Most people in my village can speak both common and this one, but…they’re all fierce in defending their right to speak this one.”</p><p>Gwen smiled too, laughter tugging at the corners of her mouth. “They sound like lovely people.”</p><p>“They aren’t,” Merlin said fondly. “Even though it’s dying out, and <em>everyone </em>speaks common, we call this one ours.”</p><p>“I’d love to go there sometime,” Gwen said.</p><p>Merlin didn’t say anything more, just staring down at the familiarly-shaped letters. He’d had no reason to write in this language, because his mother knew both, but…he’d chosen this one. Maybe he was feeling home sick.</p><p>              “We should move on to stage five,” Gwen said.</p><p>              “Oh?” Merlin craned his neck to get a proper look at the boy. “You finished stage three?” Sure enough, he could make out the red of one of his shirts around the boy’s neck.</p><p>              “Yep, and you’ve done stage four, so now we need to cut his hair. Where do you keep your scissors?”</p><p>Getting to his feet, Merlin moved to the cabinet of tools and crouched down to peer inside. It was getting dark. They’d probably need to light some candles soon. “Right…here!” Triumphant, he pulled out the rust-speckled scissors that Gaius had used to cut Merlin’s own hair a few weeks before.</p><p>              “Those?” Gwen was giving the scissors a wary look.</p><p>              “Yeah, is there something wrong?” Merlin asked, passing them to her as he leapt up the stairs to his room.</p><p>              “No, no,” Gwen quickly said, but when Merlin glanced back, she was still staring down at the scissors. “Just…don’t you have any other pairs?”</p><p>Merlin shook his head. “Not for hair-cutting.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Gwen said, “okay.” She slowly entered the room, going step-by-step, and Merlin couldn’t help but think she looked a little regal. “Well, I’ll use what you’ve got.”</p><p>The druid boy, now dressed in an oversized shirt of Merlin’s, eyed the scissors in Gwen’s hands a little warily.</p><p>              “We were planning to cut your hair,” Merlin told him, softening his voice. “Is that okay?”</p><p>The boy’s gaze flickered to Merlin, and their eyes met for just a second, and then a voice sounded in his head.</p><p>              ‘<em>Yes.</em>’</p><p>Merlin grinned at him. “Great! We just need to turn you around, and then Gwen can cut your hair.”</p><p>Biting his lip, the boy glanced back to Gwen, before very, very slowly shifting forward until there was enough space for her to comfortably settle in behind him.</p><p>              “Thank you,” Gwen said quietly as she took a seat and then got to work.</p><p>Silence reigned for a while, only broken by the squeaking of Gaius’ old scissors, as Gwen got to work.</p><p> </p><p>              “That’s great,” Merlin told her once the boy’s hair was cropped short, barely longer than half an inch.</p><p>Gwen shook her head, dissatisfied. “It’s uneven.”</p><p>              “It doesn’t need to be perfect.”</p><p>Wearing an annoyed look, Gwen told Merlin, “No mother would let her son roam around <em>Camelot </em>with a messy haircut.”</p><p>Merlin pulled a face that said he very much doubted that. “Wouldn’t they?”</p><p>              “No.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “They wouldn’t.”</p><p>              “Then I don’t think Gilfred’s mother got the message.”</p><p>Gwen snorted before she could help herself, pressing her lips together to try and suppress her giggles as she reached over to gently whack Merlin’s arm. “Merlin!”</p><p>              “What?” Merlin asked, laughing. “<em>Don’t</em> tell me you haven’t seen what he did to himself.”</p><p>Her shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter, Gwen managed to get out, “Don’t be mean.”</p><p>              “He shouldn’t be allowed near a blade,” Merlin continued.</p><p>              “It would be difficult to defend his king without his sword.”</p><p>              “Eh,” Merlin shrugged. “The kingdom’s eyes are at stake, I’m sure they can manage.”</p><p>              “You,” Gwen told him, her eyes dancing with laughter and her hands struggling to stay still, “are a terrible, terrible person.”</p><p>She grinned at him; Merlin grinned back, before glancing down at the druid he had promised to look after.</p><p>There was an ever so slight smile gracing his mouth, something relaxing around his eyes.</p><p>              ‘<em>Emrys</em>,’ a voice murmured in his mind, and Merlin’s smile fell away.</p><p>              “Yes? What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. Across from him, unable to see the boy’s face, Gwen stiffened, her own laughter fading too.</p><p>              ‘<em>Who’s Gilfred?</em>’ The boy’s expression was innocent, and his eyes were wide, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel bad that they hadn’t explained the joke.</p><p>              “Gilfred’s one of the Knights,” he said gently. “He’s not the nicest man, and he recently gave himself the worst haircut in the whole of Camelot.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Oh</em>,’ the boy murmured, before a smile flickered across his face. It only lasted a moment, and it was tired and worn, but pride flooded through Merlin regardless.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next morning, Merlin was woken from his place on the floor by a knocking on his door. He scrambled to his feet, noticing the way the druid bolted upright in his bed, and hurried over to the door.</p><p>It was Morgana, Gwen a few paces behind her, with an incredibly relieved expression on her face.</p><p>              “Gwen told me you had managed it, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I could believe her until now.” Morgana gave Merlin a smile, patting his shoulder, before she brushed past him to check on the druid boy.</p><p>He looked even healthier than before. The bags were mostly gone from under his eyes, and sweat was no longer covering his forehead, and his skin was more peach than yellow.</p><p>              “How are you feeling?” Morgana asked the boy, quietly, as though she expected an answer.</p><p>Merlin had to wince when she didn’t get one.</p><p>              “Did he sleep last night?” Gwen murmured, stopping next to Merlin in the doorway.</p><p>              “I think he actually did,” Merlin said. Gwen’s eyebrows flicked up.</p><p>Gaius had instructed Merlin to check on the boy every three hours, and make sure he hadn’t bled through the bandage, and, for at least two of those times, he’d actually been sleeping.</p><p>              “That’s new,” Gwen said. “Is he doing better, then?”</p><p>Merlin nodded, just in time for Gaius to shout, “Merlin!”</p><p>              “Yes?” Merlin called back, twisting to poke his head through the doorway.</p><p>              “Don’t you have work to do?”</p><p>              “Shit,” Merlin swore, hurrying down the steps to grab a bread roll from the table. “Arthur can’t come here, not yet.”</p><p>              “Remember to mention your cousin’s arrival,” Gaius told him. “Bring it up naturally.”</p><p>              “I know,” Merlin said. He jammed the roll in his mouth before racing out of the room.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Citizens of Camelot were taught to hate and fear magic from an early age; Gwen considered herself lucky to have survived on only one of those two. Merlin considered it lucky, too, because fear was easier to change than hate.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there's some gwen pov in this chapter, and i'll probably stick to just her and merlin's for a good while because i find their characters easier to understand and empathise with</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              “You’re late,” Arthur snapped as soon as Merlin walked into his room with his arms full of breakfast.</p><p>              “Sorry,” Merlin said. He set the plate down on the table in front of Arthur, then moved to fasten the curtains open.</p><p>              “Sire,” Arthur reprimanded; it was almost a habit at that point.</p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes. “Sorry, <em>sire</em>.” He paused, seeing an opportunity, and then took a deep breath before saying, “My cousin arrived in Camelot last night, and—”</p><p>              “I don’t care,” Arthur said, cutting him off. “Just do your job, and be here on time tomorrow.”</p><p>              “Yes,” Merlin said, quickly adding, “sire,” when Arthur looked up again.</p><p>              “Wash my clothes and polish my armour before my patrol today.”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “But—”</p><p>              “No excuses,” Arthur said. He reached for one of the pieces of paper on the table – a map – and pulled it closer. “I’m busy searching for this druid boy—” Merlin couldn’t help but stiffen “—and you’re doing nothing.”</p><p>Merlin moved away, to Arthur’s washing basket, before he did or said something stupid.</p><p>              “Would it kill you to say ‘please’ once in a while?”</p><p>              “What was that?” Arthur demanded, his head shooting up.</p><p>Turning, Merlin gave the Prince one of his best smiles. “Nothing!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen didn’t let her worry show as she wrung out a soaking cloth, before wiping it across the druid boy’s forehead. Morgana didn’t even seem to notice, occupied as she was; she’d brought one of her books of children’s tales, and was reading to the boy.</p><p>              “Milady,” Gwen said after a moment.</p><p>              “Yes?” Morgana asked, glancing up for just a moment.</p><p>              “I’m worried that someone will grow suspicious if you spend all day in Gaius’ chambers,” Gwen said. “We don’t want the guards to come searching, not for a while at least.”</p><p>Morgana frowned. “I can’t leave him <em>alone</em>.”</p><p>              “He wouldn’t be alone, milady,” Gwen said gently. “Gaius is in the next room.”</p><p>              “But what if something goes wrong? What if his infection returns?”</p><p>Why had Morgana become so attached to the boy in such a short period of time? It worried Gwen, had kept her tossing and turning the night before, because the druid boy would only be staying for a few weeks. After that, they would help him back to his people and wouldn’t see him again.</p><p>But Gwen didn’t say any of that to her mistress; instead, she just said, “Then Gaius will treat him.”</p><p>              “Gaius has a job,” Morgana dismissed with a shake of her head. “He’s often called away, to attend to nobles complaining about a sneeze. I do not want the boy to be left alone.”</p><p>              “Milady, if you stay any longer, I fear that the king will send someone to see where you’re spending all your time.”</p><p>Morgana went to speak again, and it was only years of friendship that gave Gwen the courage to cut her off.</p><p>              “<em>Please</em>, milady.”</p><p>This time, Morgana actually seemed to consider what Gwen was saying; a minute later, she very slowly nodded. “Alright, then. If you think that would be best, then I shall do so.”</p><p>Gwen couldn’t help but smile with relief. Although she didn’t want the poor boy to die, her lady was more important to her. Not that she could say that, because Morgana would be horrified, but…</p><p>A lifetime in Camelot taught a person its prejudices, and though Gwen thought of herself as more open-minded than most, she knew that she hadn’t been unaffected by her upbringing. Entering Morgana’s chambers to see a shattered mirror, hearing that the boy had done it with his mind – his <em>magic</em> – was scary.</p><p>              “However,” Morgana continued, “I would ask that you stay here.”</p><p>Gwen stiffened.</p><p>              “Please, Gwen.” Morgana looked at her with wide, pleading eyes. “I need to know that he’s safe, that he’s in the care of someone I trust.”</p><p>Unsure what to say to that, to a declaration of trust, Gwen murmured, “Milady…I…”</p><p>              “For me.”</p><p>              “Alright, milady,” Gwen said. It didn’t surprise her that she’d conceded, because Morgana was her friend, yes, but she was also her mistress and Gwen had never been able to slip out of the hierarchy in the same way that Merlin did. “I will…I will stay here, and make sure that the boy is safe.”</p><p>Morgana gave her a bright smile. “Thank you, Gwen.” She carefully closed the book of fairy tales, then rose gracefully from her place on the floor. Her gown was only a little creased, and Morgana brushed some dust off it.</p><p>              “Any time, milady,” Gwen murmured as she watched her Lady float out of the door.</p><p>Once Morgana was gone, she turned back to the druid lying in Merlin’s bed and stared at him for a moment before retrieving Morgana’s childhood book.</p><p>On the inside cover was an inscription from Morgana’s grandfather, gifting it to Morgana’s mother; below that, in beautifully slanted writing, was another note, from Morgana’s father, gifting it to her.</p><p>              “Do you want me to read one of these?” Gwen asked after a minute of slightly awkward silence. “Stories, I mean. You seemed to like Morgana reading them?”</p><p>The druid boy stared at her for another minute, before slowly nodding.</p><p>              “Alright,” Gwen muttered to herself, before turning to where Morgana had left off. She started to read.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Voices from his – and now the boy’s, too – bedroom wasn’t what Merlin expected to hear when he returned from finishing his long list of chores. He’d spotted Morgana, sitting in her window, only half an hour before, and Gwen always seemed to follow her mistress around. When she was at work, at least.</p><p>              “—and then the spider shouted, ‘you can’t kill me’, to which the donkey said—”</p><p>It was Gwen who was reading, though, and when Merlin pushed the door open, she paused at the creak, spinning around and slamming the book shut. On the bed, the boy’s eyes shot to him.</p><p>              “Merlin,” she breathed, “you’re back,” and Merlin didn’t think he’d heard so much relief in one person’s voice in his entire life. Even when she’d been cleared of sorcery, Gwen had sounded more…shell-shocked. Now, though, her entire being seemed to relax as she looked up at him with utter, utter relief.</p><p>              “I am,” Merlin agreed, a little awkward. “How are you doing? Why’s Morgana left you here?”</p><p>Gwen’s cheeks darkened, and she set the book down before getting to her feet. “I’m…fine. I advised Lady Morgana that spending so much time here would be suspicious, so she asked me to watch the druid boy and make sure that he’s alright.”</p><p>              “And is he alright?” Merlin asked. When he looked at the boy again, his gaze was still fixed on Merlin, and he couldn’t help but think there was something like relief in him too.</p><p>              “Yes,” Gwen said, then patted the book clutched in her hand. “I’ve been reading some of Morgana’s stories to him.”</p><p>              “That sounds nice,” Merlin said. “How long have you been reading for?”</p><p>              “A few hours,” Gwen admitted after a moment.</p><p>Merlin nodded. “You should take a rest, or go see Morgana, or whatever. I can look after him.”</p><p>Relaxing even further, it was only then that Merlin noticed quite how stiff Gwen had been. But she asked, “Are you sure?” anyway.</p><p>              “I’m sure,” Merlin told her with a small smile.</p><p>              “Okay, then.” Gwen returned his smile, then hurried out of the room. Just before she left, she called, “Thank you, Merlin,” over her shoulder.</p><p>Once Gwen had gone, Merlin glanced at the boy before pulling a box over with a brush of magic; the druid boy’s entire demeanour changed as Merlin sat down on it.</p><p>He straightened, something lighting up in his eyes and a smile growing on his face.</p><p>              “You liked that?” Merlin asked, surprised.</p><p>The boy glanced at the closed door, before nodding quickly. ‘<em>I like magic. Everyone else here is scared of it.</em>’</p><p>              “They are,” Merlin had to agreed, “or they hate it.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Gwen was scared of me</em>,’ the boy added after a moment, his face falling again.</p><p>Merlin winced; he’d been worried that that would be the case. “I’m sorry. She’s not used to being around people with magic.”</p><p>              ‘<em>She likes you, Emrys</em>.’</p><p>              “She doesn’t know I have magic,” Merlin said, gently. “No one here does. Except for Gaius.” And Lancelot, but he was gone and the only way Merlin could stay in touch was via their monthly letters. Of which there had, so far, only been one.</p><p>              ‘<em>Oh.</em>’</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin muttered. “It can be…difficult here, for people like us.”</p><p>The boy swallowed, then nodded. ‘<em>I know that. Cerdan…</em>’</p><p>He trailed off, and it took Merlin a moment to understand that Cerdan was probably the druid who the boy had been with, and felt be executed. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p>              “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”</p><p>The boy just shook his head, looking down at his hands.</p><p>They sat there quietly for a moment, before Merlin plastered a smile to his face. “So you like what I can do? How about…this?”</p><p>With a muttered spell, the clothes scattered across Merlin’s floor bundled themselves up before tucking into his chest.</p><p>The boy shrugged. ‘<em>I’ve seen better.</em>’</p><p>              “Oh, have you now? What about…this?”</p><p>Sparkles danced across the room – or at least, they started to, before Merlin lost focus and they disappeared into nothing. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.</p><p>              ‘<em>Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?</em>’</p><p>              “Oh-ho-ho! you think you can do better?” Merlin gestured widely to the room. “You can try, if you want.”</p><p>The boy immediately shook his head. ‘<em>Things…explode. When I try.</em>’</p><p>              “That sounds far more interesting,” Merlin said. “I should try making things explode sometime. But,” he added, when the boy’s eyes grew wide, “that’s going to wait until I’m away from the people who would kill me if they found out. For now, the only spells I can show you are the ones I’ve learned to save Arthur’s life.”</p><p>              ‘<em>How many times have you done that?</em>’ the boy asked, his brow furrowing.</p><p>              “Oh, you wouldn’t <em>believe</em>,” Merlin said. “I’ve only been here five months, and it’s already been at <em>least </em>seven times. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t die years ago.”</p><p>              ‘Seven <em>times</em>,’ the boy repeated, somehow sounding incredulous even with his mental voice.</p><p>              “I know!” Merlin exclaimed. “Do you want to hear the story of how I saved his life, then Uther made me his servant as some kind of reward?”</p><p>The boy nodded enthusiastically, and Merlin launched into the story.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>           </p><p>              “Merlin!” someone shouted, and Merlin and the druid boy both stiffened.</p><p>Leaping to his feet, Merlin hurried over to his bedroom door and yanked it open to see Arthur striding into Gaius’ chambers.</p><p>              “Merlin, what the <em>hell</em> have you been doing?” the Prince demanded. His face was twisted, and his fists were clenched into balls at his side, and Merlin felt his heart sink.</p><p>              “I’ve done all my chores today,” he replied, frowning. And he <em>had</em>. Everything that Arthur had told him to.</p><p>              “Then where’s my armour?” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “I need it for my patrol later.”</p><p>              “I put it in the armoury,” Merlin said, confused. “Didn’t you see it?”</p><p>              “How long have you been serving me, Merlin?” Arthur asked flatly.</p><p>It was a trick question, and Merlin knew it. “Five months.”</p><p>              “And, in those five months, how many times have you polished my armour?”</p><p>              “Thousands,” Merlin answered. “You’re terrible at keeping it clean.”</p><p>              “So you should know to put it in my <em>chambers</em>, on my <em>table</em>, and not in the armoury.”</p><p><em>Ah</em>. “Sorry,” Merlin said, ducking his head.</p><p>              “You should be,” Arthur said, and then paused. “Who’s that?”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “Who’s who?”</p><p>              “Merlin, don’t tell me you’ve been <em>this </em>stupid…” Arthur brushed Merlin, striding across the room and up the stairs to Merlin’s room. Merlin hurried to follow him, and Arthur stared down at the boy for a moment. “Tell me this isn’t the druid boy the entire city’s searching for.”</p><p>The boy was looking up at the Prince of Camelot with a face full of fear.</p><p>              “Of course it’s not,” Merlin said, raising his voice like he was insulted. “I would never break the law like that!”</p><p>Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Then who is he?”</p><p>              “This is my cousin,” Merlin said without hesitation.</p><p>              ‘<em>What’s your name?</em>’ he asked urgently, through whatever psychic thing the druid boy had been using.</p><p>The boy blinked at him for a moment before answering, ‘<em>Mordred. My name is Mordred.</em>’</p><p>              “His name is Mordred.”</p><p>              “Uh-huh,” Arthur said, sounding remarkably unimpressed. “When did he arrive?”</p><p>              “Last night,” Merlin said. “I <em>told </em>you he was coming, two days ago, and that he had arrived this morning – I’ve been really looking forward to it. Do you<em> never </em>listen to me?”</p><p>Arthur paused, then said, “Not really, no. I’m glad you’re finally catching up to this. But I’m going to need some kind of proof that he’s your cousin, because he looks about the right age for the druid boy we’re looking for.”</p><p>              “Proof?” Merlin repeated, like they hadn’t spent time fabricating some. “How do I <em>prove</em> that he’s my cousin?”</p><p>              “I don’t know,” Arthur said, “you could start by explaining why he’s here.”</p><p>              “He…” Merlin trailed off, directed a pointed look at Mordred, then gestured for Arthur to follow him back outside. “His father died recently,” he continued in a low voice. “And my aunt’s struggling to keep everything together, so she got in contact with my mother for the first time in ages, and my mother suggested Mordred come stay with me until everything settles down a bit.”</p><p>Arthur blinked, then shook his head even as his cheeks flushed a little. “Ah. That’s…I’m sorry for your loss.”</p><p>Merlin dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, I never met him.”</p><p>              “Do you have…proof of this?”</p><p>              “I have a letter my mother sent with him,” Merlin suggested after a moment of pretending to think, like it wasn’t the only thing that they had as evidence.</p><p>              “Show me.”</p><p>Merlin turned to Gaius’ stack of books, and scanned for a moment before seeing the letter folded top. He grabbed it, then showed it to Arthur. The Prince blinked.</p><p>              “This isn’t written in the common tongue.”</p><p>              “No,” Merlin agreed.</p><p>Arthur glared at him. “Well, what language <em>is </em>it written in?”</p><p>              “The language of Essetir,” Merlin said with a shrug. “My mother prefers to write in it.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Arthur said, then handed the letter back, “well. You’ve cleared yourself of suspicion.”</p><p>              “Good,” Merlin said. He dropped the letter back where he’d found it.</p><p>              “But my armour’s still in the wrong place.”</p><p>Merlin let out a deep, weary sigh. “Can’t you move it yourself?”</p><p>              “No, that’s <em>your </em>job.”</p><p>              “But I need to look after my cousin,” Merlin said. “He caught a cold on the way here, and he’s in a strange new place, so I don’t want to leave him on his own.”</p><p>Arthur frowned, then leaned back to get another look at Mordred through the doorway. “He’s old enough to look after himself.”</p><p>              “Please, sire.” Merlin did his best to look small and innocent; it didn’t work, if Arthur’s expression was anything to go on. “He’s my baby cousin, this is only the second time I’ve met him.”</p><p>There was a hopeful silence, which meant that Arthur was actually considering what Merlin had to say.</p><p>              “Fine,” he groaned. “I’ll find another servant. You…you look after your cousin, or whatever it is you’re doing here.”</p><p>              “Thank you,” Merlin shouted as Arthur strode out.</p><p>A moment later, Gwen hurried in with a worried expression. “Prince Arthur was here?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “He thought that Mordred was the druid boy they’re looking for. Can you <em>believe </em>that?” He was speaking a little too loudly, just in case anyone was passing by, and Gwen winced.</p><p>She glanced at the door before leaning in to whisper, “Mordred?”</p><p>              “That’s his name,” Merlin whispered back.</p><p>Gwen’s eyebrows rose. “He spoke to you?”</p><p>It took Merlin a few seconds to answer, as he debated whether to just say yes and be done with it, or to tell a partial truth. In the end he decided to go with the latter. “Kind of. He, uh, spoke in my head?” Gwen flinched back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Merlin quickly added, “Gaius said that it’s a druid thing, but not anything to worry about.”</p><p>              “He spoke in your head?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said. “He did.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Gwen said quietly. “I see.” She glanced to Merlin’s room again, then bit her lip. “Are you…are you <em>sure</em>—”</p><p>              “He’s not going to hurt anyone, Gwen,” Merlin told her, perhaps a little sharply. “He’s just a child, and he’s a druid; they’re a peaceful people.”</p><p>              “I know that.” Gwen flushed, looking down at the floor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”</p><p>Merlin sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s okay, I know you’re trying to be open-minded. And…thank you. For not turning us over to the guards.”</p><p>Gwen stiffened, her mouth hardening into a thin line as she glared at him. “I would <em>never</em> give up my friends like that. And-and I <em>certainly </em>wouldn’t let a little boy be executed.”</p><p>              “Sorry,” Merlin said, feeling a little cowed. “I didn’t…I know that you wouldn’t. I’m just…thank you. For not.”</p><p>Gwen nodded, her face clearing except—her brow remained furrowed. “Why are you helping Mordred? I’m following my Lady, and Morgana’s been protesting Uther for years, but…”</p><p>              “In Essetir, magic’s viewed differently,” Merlin said. “It’s looked down upon, sure, but it’s not against the law to practice it.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Gwen said quietly. “That sounds…” She trailed off, wincing, like she didn’t think Merlin would like how she was going to finish her sentence.</p><p>              “What you’ve got to remember, Gwen,” Merlin said, “is that magic is a tool like any other. It can be used for terrible, terrible things – like the sickness, or a poison. But it’s really just a tool, because the sorcerers who do that kind of thing are the ones choosing to do it. It’s like…a Knight can murder innocents with his sword, but you don’t call the <em>sword </em>evil. Magic is like that sword.”</p><p>Gwen blinked. “Oh.”</p><p>              “Mordred’s not in control of some terrifying power,” Merlin continued. “He’s just holding a knife. And he could stab someone with that knife, or he could chop up herbs and make a delicious meal or a life-saving potion.”</p><p>              “I guess I just…never thought of it like that,” Gwen said. Something in her seemed to ease, her pale knuckles unclenching and moving to clutch at her skirt instead of each other. “I…I came here for a reason.”</p><p>Merlin huffed a laugh, turning to start chopping up some of the herbs Gaius had left out.</p><p>              “What was that reason?”</p><p>              “We have gotten quite side-tracked, haven’t we,” Merlin mused. “I’m sure you’ll remember in a second.”</p><p>Gwen frowned, looking around like that would help her remember, then her face lit up. “Oh! I’m supposed to check on the boy – Mordred – and report back to Morgana that he’s doing alright.”</p><p>              ‘<em>I’m fine</em>,’ Mordred’s voice said in Merlin’s head, and Merlin was surprised to see the boy shuffling down the steps.</p><p>              “Are you sure you should be moving?” Gwen hurried to offer Mordred a hand, but he determinedly shook his head.</p><p>Once he’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Mordred limped across the room – because fighting an infection left people <em>tired</em>, as Merlin had learned – to reach Merlin.</p><p>              “He’s technically allowed,” Merlin told her as he pulled a chair out and offered it to the young, tired boy; Mordred gave him a surprised look before slumping down into it. “Probably shouldn’t be going this far.”</p><p>Mordred narrowed his eyes at him. ‘<em>I’m fine, Emrys.</em>’</p><p>              “<em>Sure</em> you are,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>              “Is he speaking into your mind?” Gwen’s hands tightened in her skirt, knuckles paling as she bit her lip.</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said lightly, casually. “I don’t think he feels comfortable speaking out loud yet.”</p><p>Mordred shook his head. ‘<em>D</em><em>on’t want to.</em>’</p><p>              “He doesn’t want to,” Merlin added for Gwen’s benefit.</p><p>              “Oh,” Gwen said. “Well, I’m glad that you’re feeling better, Mordred, but I don’t think you should be walking that far yet. You look exhausted.”</p><p>              ‘<em>I’m fine</em>,’ Mordred insisted, for the third time.</p><p>              “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again,” Merlin said.</p><p>Mordred frowned.</p><p>              “Good luck with that,” Gwen murmured. “He seems like he knows his own mind.”</p><p>              ‘<em>I do,</em>’ Mordred said.</p><p>              “Not enough to go against Gaius, you don’t,” Merlin told him. “You don’t want to get on his bad side.”</p><p>Gwen laughed, low and amused. “That’s a fair point.”</p><p>              “That laugh comes from someone who’s never been on his bad side.”</p><p>              “Who’s bad side?”</p><p>All three of them jumped at Gaius’ sudden appearance; Merlin, about a foot in the air. Gwen and Mordred both stared at him for a moment, before Gwen burst out laughing and even Mordred smiled.</p><p>              “It’s nothing,” Gwen managed to get out.</p><p>              “And what, pray tell, are you doing out of bed, young man?” Gaius asked Mordred, his usual judgmental eyebrow rising.</p><p>Mordred blinked at the physician, but didn’t say anything.</p><p>              “I gave you permission to walk around Merlin’s room, not go this far.”</p><p>Shrinking in on himself, Mordred nodded.</p><p>              “Good,” Gaius said, “you understand. I’ll let you stay for the time being, because you’re already here, but I don’t expect you to be doing it again. Not until I give you permission.”</p><p>Mordred nodded again.</p><p>              “Now, have you done your list of chores?” Gaius asked, turning to Merlin, who held up the knife he was using to chop up herbs.</p><p>              “It’s in progress.”</p><p>              “Hmm.”</p><p>Merlin’s eyes widened. “It is! I just got waylaid by Arthur.”</p><p>Worry flickered across Gaius’ face. “Arthur?”</p><p>              “Yeah, he came by,” Merlin said, “and saw Mordred. But it’s okay, ‘cause he believe my explanation.”</p><p>              “Good,” Gaius said, then asked, “Mordred?”</p><p>              “That’s his name,” Gwen said. A smile grew on her face. “I’ve got to say, it’s a nice name.”</p><p>Merlin nodded his agreement, giving Mordred a grin; Mordred returned it, though hesitantly. “I agree.”</p><p>              “I should be getting back to Morgana.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Oh,</em>’ Mordred said in Merlin’s head.</p><p>              “Tell her that Mordred’s doing well,” Merlin said.</p><p>Gwen nodded. “I will.”</p><p>              “If you’re going anyway, may I give you Morgana’s sleeping draught?” Gaius asked.</p><p>              “Of course,” Gwen said. “I didn’t know she’d run out.”</p><p>Gaius hmphed, heading over to his cabinet of potions. “She’s got one more night’s worth, but I finished a batch this morning so you might as well.”</p><p>After Edwin Muirden’s accusations, Gaius had become a little more defensive over his potion-making, and people questioning the process. Merlin was sure it would die down in a month or so, but the painful experience had only been two weeks ago.</p><p>Gwen seemed aware that she’d accidentally prodded a sore spot, too, because she simply nodded and said, “I’m sure my Lady will appreciate it,” as she took the potion from Gaius.</p><p>With those words, she turned and left, pausing only to give Merlin a wave.</p><p>Once she was gone, Gaius looked at Merlin with something dangerous in his expression. “How do you know what the boy’s name is?”</p><p>              “He told me.”</p><p>              “With his voice?” Gaius sounded like he very, very much doubted that.</p><p>              “No,” Merlin admitted.</p><p>              “Then why does Gwen know about it?”</p><p>Merlin winced, anticipating the lecture to come. “Because I told her?”</p><p>Gaius’ eyes narrowed. “You told her that Mordred spoke to you?”</p><p>And…there it was. Better get it over with than draw it out.</p><p>              “No, I told her that Mordred and I can speak mentally.”</p><p>              “You <em>foolish boy</em>,” Gaius hissed out. Even his perpetually raised eyebrow was lowered, and his jaw was set. “You should never have told her that, it’s practically a confession!”</p><p>              “I just said that druids can do it,” Merlin protested, darting back and away from his mentor until there was a table between them. “And not that I could speak back!”</p><p>              “It’s a hint, and a hint is <em>all </em>Uther needs to charge you with practicing sorcery.”</p><p>Merlin frowned, shaking his head. “Gwen would never tell, and it’s not like anyone else here actually knows anything about the druids. They wouldn’t know that <em>both</em> people need to be magic.”</p><p>              “You’re taking a risk that doesn’t need to be taken,” Gaius said. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again: you need to be more careful with your secret.”</p><p>              “I know, Gaius,” Merlin said quietly. “I…I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”</p><p>              “It’s not that,” Gaius said. “Now that you’re looking after Mordred, if your magic is discovered then they’ll realise that he’s the druid boy. For the time he’s here, you’re going to need to be on high alert.”</p><p>Merlin bit his lip, but nodded. Still sat on the chair, his face little too pale, Mordred’s eyes were wide and he kept glancing between Gaius, Merlin, and the door.</p><p>              ‘<em>Am I putting you in danger?</em>’</p><p>Merlin shook his head. “No more danger than usual.”</p><p>              ‘<em>I don’t want to get anyone hurt,</em>’ Mordred said, ‘<em>especially not you, Emrys.</em>’</p><p>              “As long as we’re careful, we’ll be fine,” Merlin told him.</p><p>              “Hmph,” Gaius said, his eyes narrowing again.</p><p>              “What is it?” Merlin asked, turning to the physician.</p><p>Gaius frowned, then said, “You can’t have one-sided conversations around anyone else.”</p><p>              “But it’s not one-sided,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “Yes, but <em>other</em> people won’t know that.”</p><p><em>Oh</em>. Merlin was rather liking talking to Mordred, and it would be a shame to have to stop that just because they were around other people.</p><p>              “If Mordred’s not going to be speaking out loud, you’re going to need to come up with a reason,” Gaius continued. “People will think there’s something wrong otherwise.”</p><p>              “There is something wrong,” Merlin said, frowning. He glanced at Mordred before saying, “He’s a <em>druid</em> in <em>Camelot</em>.”</p><p>Mordred slumped a little, his shoulders drooping. “I—” he said, barely a croak, and Merlin’s eyebrows shot up as surprise rippled through him. “I can t-talk.”</p><p>              “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Merlin quickly assured him. “I can come up with something.”</p><p>Mordred shook his head, almost vehemently. ‘<em>You’re sacrificing things for me. I don’t want to make things harder.</em>’</p><p>              “Not that much,” Merlin said, putting a casual smile on as he shrugged. “Just don’t practice magic unless you’re with me, and you’ll be fine.”</p><p>Gaius hmphed again. “Don’t listen to him,” he told Mordred with the air of someone sharing a secret, “he has no understanding of personal safety, nor spatial awareness.”</p><p>A smile flashed across Mordred’s face, fleeting but full of laughter.</p><p>              “I haven’t been caught,” Merlin protested, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.</p><p>              “<em>Yet</em>.” Gaius turned to Mordred. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to burst into the council chamber and shout out that you have magic.”</p><p>Mordred’s jaw dropped. ‘<em>You </em>did <em>that, Emrys?</em>’</p><p>Heat spreading across his face until he was sure he was as red as Arthur’s cloak, Merlin weakly said, “It made sense at the time.”</p><p>              “No, it didn’t,” Gaius said. “And Mordred here isn’t going to do that.”</p><p>Mordred shook his head quickly.</p><p>              “He also isn’t going to take his shirt off in front of other people,” Gaius continued, “because he has a triskelion tattooed to his chest.”</p><p>Merlin wracked his brain for what a triskelion was. “That’s the swirl?”</p><p>              “<em>Yes</em>, Merlin, that’s the swirl. It’s an important druid symbol.”</p><p>              ‘Emrys<em> doesn’t know what the triskelion is?</em>’ Mordred’s mental voice sounded more than a little shocked.</p><p>              “I do <em>now</em>.”</p><p>Although he couldn’t hear Mordred talking in his mind, Gaius seemed to understand the gist of it. “Citizens of Camelot are remarkably uninformed about magic, since the Purge.”</p><p>Even the mention of it made Merlin tense, pain flashing through him at the remembrance of the murder – and it was murder, no matter what Uther called it – of hundreds of his people. Before he’d arrived at Camelot, it had been a distant concept, and even in the ensuing months it hadn’t felt quite <em>real</em>. The idea that he could be executed for even just doing his chores was…hard to comprehend. But after everything that happened with Edwin, and now Mordred, the message was really getting hammered home:</p><p>Magic was not welcome in Camelot.</p><p>              “Emrys?” a voice asked, knocking Merlin out of his thoughts.</p><p>It was Mordred who had spoken, his eyes wide.</p><p>              “Hmm?”</p><p>              ‘<em>You didn’t respond.</em>’</p><p>              “Sorry,” Merlin repeated sheepishly. “Just…caught up in my brain.”</p><p>              “You can’t call Merlin by that name,” Gaius said. “Emrys can be traced back to magic, if anyone wants to.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Oh.</em>’ Mordred bit his lip, gaze flicking across to Merlin. ‘<em>I…</em>’ He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then tried, “Merlin.” His nose scrunched up. ‘<em>Feels weird.</em>’</p><p>Merlin couldn’t help but feel offended by that assessment. “My <em>name</em> feels weird.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Yes,</em>’ Mordred said. ‘<em>Emrys is better.</em>’</p><p>              “I’m not a fan of the destiny thing, so I’d rather you just call me Merlin.”</p><p>Mordred frowned, but nodded. ‘<em>I’ll try.</em>’ He took a deep breath in and then tried again: “Merlin.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mordred has a nightmare.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so here's a question: does anyone know what the chamber thing is called, the one where most of their meetings take place? i tried looking it up, but couldn't find anything. i think i'll probably just call it the council chamber, but if someone else knows differently, please do say</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Gwen found herself once again going to Gaius’ chambers to see Mordred. This time, Morgana was with her, three steps ahead.</p><p>Gwen had always thought that Morgana walked differently to the other ladies. All of the noble women who visited always seemed to float, drifting around the castle like a fluffy cloud; without purpose, or at least trying very hard to seem that way. Their steps would be smooth, smooth enough that it almost looked like they weren’t taking them; their heads wouldn’t bob, and looked like they were on a wheel of some kind, just gliding along.</p><p>Morgana, however, moved with purpose. She didn’t bother with some of the airs and graces; she spoke her mind, lashing out with her vicious tongue when the King or Prince – or anyone, really – did something she thought was stupid. It had landed her in trouble more than once.</p><p>In front of Gwen, Morgana slowed down as they reached Gaius’ chambers, and then pulled the door open.</p><p>              “Mordred!” she exclaimed, her entire face lighting up as she strode in. “Gwen told me you were out of bed, but I didn’t quite believe her.”</p><p>Mordred managed a small smile in return, but there was something strained about it. Morgana swept over to him, patting Merlin’s shoulder as she passed. Mordred was sat in the same seat as yesterday, but he’d scooted it over to the table where Merlin was chopping up herbs. There was knife in his hand, and a pile of herbs in front of him, and it looked a lot like he was also chopping herbs.</p><p>              “How are you doing?” Gwen asked Mordred, moving to stand next to Merlin as he moved on to another bunch of some leaves of some kind.</p><p>Mordred bobbed his head in a nod, then glanced at Merlin.</p><p>              “He says he’s doing good,” Merlin said on his behalf.</p><p>Morgana’s face fell. Few people knew her well enough to read past her mask, but Gwen had spent half her life serving Morgana; she knew what the subtle twitches meant, and right then Morgana looked disappointed. Gwen could guess that it was because Mordred had yet to speak to her.</p><p>              “I’m glad,” Morgana said anyway, wearing a warm smile. “How’s his injury doing?”</p><p>Merlin and Mordred shared another look, and then Mordred pulled his baggy sleeve up – they really needed to get him some clothes of his own – to show the two women a puckered red scar.</p><p>              “Woah,” Gwen couldn’t help but breathe, leaning in closer to get a proper look at it. “That’s healing very well.” Then the fact that it was probably due to magic crossed her mind, and she stiffened; it took a moment to force all her muscles to relax, during which Merlin gave her a curious look.</p><p>              “Gaius is doing an excellent job,” Morgana agreed.</p><p>Merlin glanced down at Mordred yet again, and something flashed over Merlin’s face; Gwen didn’t get a good look, but she could have sworn it was amusement.</p><p>              “He is.”</p><p>Mordred nodded enthusiastically, and Gwen couldn’t help the thought that the two of them were hiding something. <em>Had </em>Mordred used magic to heal his wound? If so, why didn’t he just say so? All of them knew that he was a druid, that was kind of the <em>point</em>.</p><p>              “Now,” Merlin said, speaking lowly as he addressed Mordred, “you need to make sure you’re using the sharp edge.”</p><p>Mordred blinked at him, then looked down at the blade in his hand, then went very red when he realised that he was holding it the wrong way up.</p><p>Gwen restrained her laugh, because although she just found it endearing, she realised that Mordred would likely think she was laughing <em>at </em>him. Merlin had no such reservations; he let out a snort, at which Mordred blushed even darker.</p><p>              “You were doing well before,” Merlin said. “You wouldn’t have that pile otherwise, you just flipped it when they came in.”</p><p>Morgana arched an eyebrow. “Are you coercing Mordred into finishing your chores for you, Merlin?”</p><p>Merlin said, “No,” far too quickly for it to be anything but a lie.</p><p>              “That’s not very nice, Merlin,” Gwen told him, giving him a disapproving look.</p><p>A smile flickered across Mordred’s face, lightning quick, and then Gwen was <em>startled</em> when he said, “Merlin.”</p><p>Mordred was talking out loud? Since when? Gwen had been under the impression that he probably wouldn’t do that for a while, given the reluctance he’d shown so far. Also, it was a very random thing for him to say.</p><p>When she glanced across at her mistress, her own surprise was mirrored in Morgana’s face, even if Morgana hid it better.</p><p>              “Mordred says my name sometimes,” Merlin offered as an explanation. “He’s trying to get used to it.”</p><p>Gwen frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>              “It does,” Merlin said simply, like that changed anything.</p><p>              “No,” Morgana said, the words coming out slowly, like she was confused, “it doesn’t. Why would Mordred need to practice your name? It’s not like it’s a difficult one. Besides, why would he just say your name? Gwen’s right.”</p><p>Merlin shrugged, but there was an odd tension to the motion, and Gwen could see his hands clenching around his knife. Why wasn’t he telling them the reason? Was there something he needed to hide?</p><p>Morgana’s eyes narrowed, the way they always did when she knew that something wasn’t adding up and wanted the details, but before she could say anything, Merlin spoke.</p><p>              “I need to do Arthur’s washing.” He dropped his knife on the table. “See you later,” he said, giving Mordred a small smile before turning to Gwen and Morgana. “Can you make sure he doesn’t cut himself?”</p><p>A noise of protest burst out of Mordred, and Merlin grinned to himself as he hurried to vacate the room.</p><p>That left Gwen and Morgana to monitor the ten-year-old using a knife for what sounded like the first time.</p><p>Morgana had something close to panic growing on her face. Gwen couldn’t blame her; Morgana was one of the loveliest people she knew, but she wasn’t always great at interacting with children. The few times that Gwen had brought her neighbours’ kids to work, when the parents had a family emergency, Morgana had no idea what to do or say to them.</p><p>              “Make sure you don’t rush,” Gwen advised. Oh: she also had experience in cooking, and knife handling. Maybe this wouldn’t go so badly, even though she wasn’t used to chopping herbs. If there was something poisonous on the table, she had no idea. “That can lead to injuries.”</p><p>Morgana nodded, like she too had experience with cooking, and Gwen had to hide her fond smile behind her hand; she disguised the gesture by brushing her hair behind her ear.</p><p>Nodding, Mordred picked a leaf off his blade where it had gotten stuck, and Morgana started forward with her hands coming up like she was going to stop him; Mordred looked up, staring at her for a moment.</p><p>              “Kitchen knives aren’t that sharp,” Gwen whispered to her mistress, making Morgana straighten in the only kind of embarrassment she would show. “They’re not like hunting knives.”</p><p>Mordred pulled a face. “Not good knives.”</p><p>Gwen stilled when he spoke, and it took her a moment to gather her thoughts enough to respond. By the time she had, Morgana was already speaking.</p><p>              “What’s not a good knife?”</p><p>Mordred held up the knife he was using. “Druids don’t have a blunt edge.”</p><p>              “Oh?” Gwen said. “Why not?”</p><p>              “Don’t know,” Mordred said with a shrug. “Not used to this.”</p><p>              “Well, they are pretty different,” Gwen said. Mordred was <em>talking</em>, and it was nice to communicate with him without Merlin as an intermediary, so she wanted to keep the conversation going. “Kitchen knives are much easier for chopping things, so I’d imagine that once you’re used to it, you’ll find it hard to return.”</p><p>Mordred’s brow furrowed, and he blinked at her before returning to the small pile of herbs and small plants he’d worked through, methodically cutting off parts in preparation for Gaius’ potions. He didn’t say anything more.</p><p>Across the table from Gwen, Morgana seemed even more desperate for Mordred to talk to her. She studied the young druid boy for a minute, before reaching to one of the plants that Merlin had left untouched.</p><p>              “What’s this one—” she started to ask, only for Mordred to violently shake his head.</p><p>              “No!”</p><p>Morgana startled, recoiling backwards, and Gwen did too, taking a step back at the sudden outburst.</p><p>              “That’s Hemlock. Very Poisonous,” Mordred added when Gwen and Morgana just blinked at him.</p><p>              “Why are you cutting something very poisonous?” Gwen asked, concerned.</p><p>              “I wasn’t,” Mordred said. “Em—Merlin was.”</p><p>Morgana frowned at the slight slip of his tongue, but Gwen figured that it was just something the two boys had been talking about; after all, Merlin had spent the most time with Mordred.</p><p>              “That sounds dangerous,” Gwen said.</p><p>Mordred used the knife to point to one of the tomes left open on the table.</p><p>Gwen skimmed her eyes over the page, and sure enough, there was a diagram of a similar looking plant. Spindly lines and letters detailed where a person could touch and where they couldn’t.</p><p>              “A lot of it’s poisonous,” she commented.</p><p>Simply shrugging, Mordred continued slicing. He was careful as he handled the knife, his motions slow and imprecise; Gwen remembered being that age and helping her mother prepare dinner.</p><p>              “Gwen,” Morgana said suddenly.</p><p>              “Yes, milady?” Gwen straightened, shifting her focus away from Merlin’s charge to her mistress.</p><p>              “Why don’t you fetch some of my embroidery? It would be nice to spend some time here.”</p><p>Something warm lit up in Gwen’s chest, even as her concern over Mordred’s magic lingered, and she hesitated for just a second before curtsying. “Of course, milady.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin was asleep one second, and awake the next, and all he could feel was <em>pain</em>, raking its claws across the floor and thrashing against the walls and lurching for the window—</p><p><em>Magic. It’s magic</em>.</p><p>Someone was in pain, someone magical, and they were out of control and—</p><p>It could only be Mordred.</p><p>Merlin leapt to his feet, tossing his blanket to one side and hurling himself across the bedroom so he was next to the bed. And, sure enough, the young druid boy was bolt upright with his legs tangled in his sheet. His eyes were wide and unseeing and golden, his chest heaving for breath.</p><p>
  <em>Shit. How do I deal with this?</em>
</p><p>              “It’s okay,” Merlin attempted, but Mordred flinched back from him, scuttling back to press his back to the wall.</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>Merlin waited a few seconds, but nothing changed, and there was something tugging at his subconscious and—</p><p>He loosened the tight leash he kept his own magic under, just enough that it flowed into the room. It was soothing, billowing like smoke from a fire on a dark night.</p><p>              “It’s okay,” Merlin murmured, trying to keep his voice low and soothing. He didn’t know what else to say.</p><p>His magic seemed to be calming Mordred’s, singing a lullaby that had it sheathing its claws and drawing inwards until it was curled up into a tight ball in Mordred’s chest.</p><p>Something cleared in Mordred’s gaze, and his eyes faded back to the piercing blue that Merlin had been growing used to.</p><p>              “E-Emrys?” he stuttered out. His shoulders curved inwards, his arms clutching his knees to his chest; in the light of the single candle, Merlin saw the water glistening on his face.</p><p>Merlin tried and failed for a smile. “I’m here,” he said, gentle.</p><p>Mordred’s throat bobbed. “I…”</p><p>              “Do you want me to hug you?”</p><p>Immediately shaking his head, Mordred hurried to add, “I-I don’t want to be touched, I can’t, my magic—”</p><p>Merlin’s heart sunk slightly at the rejection, and he mentally scolded himself. <em>No. This isn’t Mordred rejecting you, this is him panicking.</em></p><p>              “Don’t worry,” he said. “If you don’t want to be touched, I won’t touch you.” He attempted another smile; this one was a bit more successful, and something vaguely resembling a smile grew on his face.</p><p>Mordred gave him a shaky smile in return.</p><p>              “What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, his brow creasing with worry. “Did you have a nightmare?”</p><p>Nodding almost violently, Mordred stammered out, “I-I saw Cerdan.”</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>              “He died again. But—he couldn’t have died again, he’s already dead, he can’t die again but he did and it <em>hurt </em>and then everything erupted and I couldn’t control it and—” Mordred devolved into sobbing, his shoulders shaking as he hunched further in on himself.</p><p>              “I’m so sorry,” Merlin whispered.</p><p>He’d never—he’d seen grief before. But never like this, never from someone so young.</p><p>              “I am so, so sorry.”</p><p>Mordred tried to catch his breath, failed, so between sobs managed to choke out, “Can—can I change my m-mind?”</p><p>              “Of course,” Merlin said. “What about?”</p><p>              “<em>Hug</em>.”</p><p>With that, Mordred launched himself off the bed and right into Merlin’s arms, sending him toppling back to land on the floor with a thump. He tucked his face into Merlin’s shoulder, still sobbing, with his arms squeezing the life out of him.</p><p>Merlin just hugged him back, arms wrapped around Mordred’s small body as he shuffled backwards until he was resting against the wall. For a brief moment, he considered spooling his magic back inside him, but decided against it; his magic had helped Mordred earlier, and this panic didn’t seem like something that was going to pass quickly.</p><p> </p><p>Mordred fell back into a fitful sleep as the sun made an appearance on the horizon, pink-purple light streaking across Merlin’s walls as he carefully got to his feet and surveyed the mess.</p><p>Although Mordred’s frantic magic hadn’t done any lasting damage, Merlin’s books were scattered across the room, clothes that he had only just tided up plastered to the walls. It took him a while to quietly put everything back in its place, making sure he didn’t wake Mordred up again, and then he opened the door just enough to squeeze out into the main room.</p><p>Once he was out, Merlin let out a sigh of relief.</p><p>              “Merlin?”</p><p>Gaius’ voice came out of nowhere, sharp in the still morning, and Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around.</p><p>Stood at one of the tables, Gaius looked like he always did, seemingly unaware of the Gods-forsaken hour.</p><p>              “What are you doing up at this time?”</p><p>Oh, so he did know. Just didn’t seem to mind.</p><p>              “The question,” Merlin said, rubbing sleep dust out of his eyes, “is what are <em>you </em>doing up?”</p><p>              “I wake with the sun,” Gaius said, because <em>of course he did</em>. “It’s good for getting things done.”</p><p>A yawn forced its way out of Merlin’s mouth.</p><p>              “My question stands.”</p><p>              “Mordred had a nightmare,” Merlin said, grimacing. “A bad one, about Cerdan. It took a while for him to get back to sleep. I might as well stay up.”</p><p>              “Hmm. I’m sorry to hear that. Cerdan is the druid he was with?”</p><p>Merlin nodded, then stumbled over to the bucket to splash water on his face. It was <em>freezing</em>, and shocked his system into gear.</p><p>              “Yes, he is. Mordred’s magic lashed out. I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p><p>Gaius’ brow furrowed, his eyebrows meeting. “Lashed out? What do you mean?”</p><p>              “It was…it was thrashing, like it was some kind of caged animal. Messed up my room.” Merlin shivered. “It was a <em>horrible </em>feeling, the way it threw itself against the walls, trying to get out.”</p><p>Gaius hmm-ed. “That sounds like accounts of young people with out-of-control magic having nightmares. You must have had them, too.”</p><p>              “No,” Merlin said, frowning. “I never had that.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Gaius said. “Well, it’s not unusual. I’m just glad you were there to help young Mordred through it. Having your magic disobeying your commands can be scary.”</p><p>Merlin shivered. “That sounds terrifying.”</p><p>              “It is,” Gaius said. “Be glad you never experienced it.”</p><p>              “Can you make sure he’s alright if it happens again?” Merlin asked. “I should probably fetch Arthur’s breakfast, then he won’t be able to complain about me being late for once.”</p><p>Gaius chuckled. “Yes, Merlin, I can do that.”</p><p>Flashing his mentor a grin, Merlin said, “Thanks.”</p><p>Just as he turned to leave, though, there was a creak from the door to his room; when he and Gaius looked, Mordred was standing in the doorway. He looked worse in the light of the day, with smudges under his eyes and even paler skin than normal. Merlin’s shirt swamped him, and the trousers had been rolled up several times to fit.</p><p>              “Mordred,” Merlin exclaimed. “What are you doing up?”</p><p>              “Couldn’t sleep.” Mordred used his sleeve to wipe his nose. “Your magic’s nice. Soft.”</p><p><em>Oh. </em>No one had ever told Merlin that his magic was nice before. They’d told him that it was dangerous, that it was powerful, that it needed to be kept away, but never…nice, or soft.</p><p>              “I was just about to leave,” Merlin said, wincing. “Arthur’s going to shout, otherwise.”</p><p>Somehow, Mordred’s <em>entire</em> body drooped, like Merlin had refused to feed him. “Oh,” Mordred said softly.</p><p>              “You can come with me,” Merlin offered before his brain could catch up with his mouth. “Join me for my work today, that way you can, you know. Be around my magic.”</p><p>Mordred’s face lit up, his mouth turning up in a toothy grin. “<em>Really</em>?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said. He couldn’t help but return the smile.</p><p>As Mordred stumbled down the steps, Gaius pulled Merlin down to whisper in his ear, “Are you sure this wise? Arthur isn’t known for his understanding nature.”</p><p>              “Well, he’s not going to give me a day off because Mordred had a nightmare,” Merlin whispered back. “It’s <em>this</em> or leave Mordred to panic.”</p><p>Gaius pursed his lips, but moved back to his work bench when Mordred tucked himself into Merlin’s side, one hand clutching at Merlin’s.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin led Mordred to the kitchens, not letting himself give any indication of his spiking fear with every guard they passed.</p><p><em>Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all</em>.</p><p>By the time they reached the kitchen, five guards had narrowed their eyes as Mordred before continuing on; two had asked who Mordred was, but luckily been appeased by Merlin’s answer of ‘my cousin’.</p><p>The cook stared at the half-hidden little boy, before grumbling that he wasn’t to touch any of her food, did he understand?</p><p>Mordred nodded quickly, his eyes wide and his knuckles going white as he tightened his grip on Merlin; Merlin tried to hide his wince, because although it was painful, Mordred didn’t need to know.</p><p>              “This is my cousin, Mordred,” he told the cook, “and he’s very well-behaved.”</p><p>The cook’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone’s well-behaved until they’ve got their grubby little hands on my pies.”</p><p>              “He won’t,” Merlin promised. “Is Arthur’s meal ready?”</p><p>Snorting, the cook jerked her thumb to a steaming plate of breakfast food. It smelled good, but then it always did. “It’s always ready.”</p><p>Merlin moved over to it, going slower than normal so Mordred could stay attached to him, and called out, “Thank you!” as he left the kitchens.</p><p>              ‘<em>She wasn’t very nice,</em>’ Mordred murmured in Merlin’s head.</p><p>Merlin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. ‘<em>That’s just cook.</em>’</p><p>              “Merlin?” a voice suddenly asked, and Merlin twisted his head around to see Gwen, stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a plate of food in her hands. “You’re not usually up this early.”</p><p>              “Mordred had some nightmares,” Merlin said, “so I’m bringing him to work today.”</p><p>Gwen’s eyebrows shot up, and her gaze slid downwards; it was only then that she seemed to notice Mordred, half-hidden in Merlin's side as he was. “Is Arthur okay with that?”</p><p>              “I have no idea,” Merlin had to admit. “But I’m going to try. Arthur’s so oblivious, he probably won’t even notice.”</p><p>Choking on a laugh, Gwen almost dropped her plate; she gave him a look that was trying to be irritated, but was actually just stuck on amusement, with her mouth curling upwards in a smile.</p><p>              “Merlin, you can’t talk about the Prince like that.”</p><p>              “Sure I can,” Merlin said easily.</p><p>Gwen laughed again, her shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles. “Well, I need to attend to my Lady Morgana. You…you get going. Tell me how it goes.”</p><p>              “Will do.” Merlin readjusted his single-handed grip on Arthur’s breakfast, then continued down the corridor and up the stairs to the Prince’s chambers.</p><p> </p><p>When he pushed into the room, Arthur was still asleep, so Merlin set the plate of food down on the table and gestured for Mordred to stay there; Mordred tensed, his eyes widening and his grip tightening on Merlin’s hand.</p><p>              “I’m just going a few metres,” Merlin told him quietly. “I need both my hands to wake the prat up.”</p><p>Mordred made an upset noise, shaking his head. Merlin didn’t want the young boy to be afraid or upset; he sighed. “Okay, you can stick by me, but I’m still going to need both my hands.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Yes, Emrys</em>.’</p><p>Merlin pulled his hand away, and Mordred reluctantly loosened his grip. When Merlin moved over to the curtains, opening them with a cheerful, “Rise and shine!” Mordred remained pressed to his side.</p><p>Arthur let out a groan, and flopped over in his bed so he was facing away from the light. Unable to help his grin, Merlin bounced over to shake the prince awake.</p><p>              “Go away,” Arthur grumbled. “’M sleeping.”</p><p>              “No, you’re not,” Merlin told him, cheerful. “You’re talking.”</p><p>Arthur groaned again, the sound one of long-suffering that he had little experience with, and rubbed at his eyes before sitting up. “Argh!” he shouted, recoiling backwards and hitting the backboard of his bed in the process. “Who’s <em>that</em>?”</p><p>              “Who?” Merlin asked, tilting his head to one side in question.</p><p>              “<em>That</em>.” Arthur used his hand to gesture at Mordred, who tensed and pressed even further into Merlin’s side.</p><p>              “He’s my cousin,” Merlin said, bright as the sunshine streaming through the window. “Mordred, remember?”</p><p>Arthur blinked. Mordred tensed even more.</p><p>              “Honestly, Arthur,” Merlin continued, “I know you’re cabbage-head, but even you can’t have <em>that</em> short a memory.”</p><p>As expected, Arthur reacted to the insult. “You’re one to talk, Merlin! This is the first time you’ve been on time, and you can’t even get this right. You can’t just bring your cousin along with you to serve me.”</p><p>              “Why not?” Merlin asked.</p><p>Arthur stilled, his eyebrows drawing together. “You just…can’t. It’s not professional.”</p><p>              “What would <em>you</em> know about being professional?” Merlin asked, laughing to himself.</p><p>              ‘<em>Is he going to make me leave?</em>’ Mordred asked, his mental voice subdued, as Arthur rolled out of his ridiculously big bed and strutted over to the screen.</p><p>              “Arthur’s not going to make you leave,” Merlin assured him, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. “Even he’s not that much of a prat.”</p><p>Arthur made an affronted sound, poking his head around the screen with his shirt only half on. “You can’t talk about me like that!”</p><p>              “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sire,” Merlin said, straightening and folding his hands neatly in front of him so he was the picture of professionalism. “I didn’t say a word.”</p><p>              “You,” Arthur said, the word almost a growl as he stomped forward to thrust a finger in Merlin’s face, “are pushing your luck.”</p><p>Merlin hesitated, then gave Arthur an angelic smile. “I’m terribly sorry, sire. How may I assist you?”</p><p>              “Help me dress,” Arthur ordered, then glanced at Mordred again. “Tell your cousin to go away.”</p><p>Merlin could have sworn he saw a hint of embarrassment in Arthur’s expression, and then he realised: it would be inappropriate for Mordred to see Arthur dressing.</p><p>              “Ah,” he said, “yes.”</p><p>Crouching down so he was eye-level with Mordred, Merlin rested a hand on his shoulder before asking, “Can you wait in the other room?”</p><p>Mordred’s face fell. ‘<em>Don’t want to.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>Out loud, remember?</em>’</p><p>His throat bobbed, and Mordred took a deep breath in before saying, the words barely a whisper, “Don’t want to.”</p><p>              “Arthur’s embarrassed and doesn’t want you to see him naked,” Merlin said. Ignoring the way that Arthur was spluttering behind the screen, he added, “And I don’t want you to see him naked either.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said. “Why not?”</p><p>Arthur’s coughing fit grew worse; Merlin continued to ignore him. “In Camelot, people don’t think it’s proper to see each other naked.”</p><p>              “That’s stupid,” Mordred said, scrunching his face up.</p><p>              “But it’s the way things are,” Merlin said. “I promise that I’ll be right here, just say my name and I’ll be with you in a second, okay?”</p><p>Mordred bit his lip, gaze flickering to the screen concealing the Prince of Camelot, but nodded before slipping away to curl up in one of the chairs at Arthur’s dining table.</p><p>Once Mordred was settled, Merlin picked a random shirt and pair of trousers from Arthur’s wardrobe and started to dress the prince.</p><p>              “What’s wrong with your cousin?” Arthur asked in a whisper-shout. Merlin had served Arthur for long enough to know he wasn’t being intentionally rude, just oblivious.</p><p>              “I told you that his father died,” Merlin said, a little sharp. “He gets nightmares.”</p><p>Arthur blinked at him, stopping with his shirt only half on. “Nightmares?”</p><p>              “Yes, nightmares.”</p><p>              “How old is he?” Arthur asked.</p><p>              “Ten.”</p><p>              “I didn’t have nightmares at that age.”</p><p>
  <em>You weren’t a druid in Camelot at that age.</em>
</p><p>“He must be traumatised by his father’s death.”</p><p>Merlin stilled, startled. That…wasn’t where he had expected Arthur to be going with this.</p><p>              “He can help you with your duties today.”</p><p>Well. That was unexpected.</p><p>              “Uh…” Merlin didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, sire?”</p><p>Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, Merlin. ‘Thank you’ is the proper response to your master granting you a favour.”</p><p>              “Prat,” Merlin muttered under his breath as he helped Arthur into his trousers.</p><p>              “<em>That </em>is not the proper response,” Arthur said. “Your cousin can join you at the stocks, if that’s what you want.”</p><p>Merlin took a deep breath in, then out, then fixed a wide smile on his face. He finished dressing Arthur, then took a step back. “Of course, milord. Will that be all milord requires, or shall I feed milord his breakfast by hand?”</p><p>              “No, Merlin,” Arthur said, exasperated.</p><p>              “Are you sure, milord?” Merlin asked, the very picture of concern. “I wouldn’t want milord to strain himself.”</p><p>Arthur smacked the back of Merlin’s head, striding past him to take a seat at the head of the table, where Merlin had set his breakfast. Mordred tightened his grip on his knees with the reappearance of the Prince of Camelot, hunching further in on himself.</p><p>              “It’s okay,” Merlin murmured, moving to rest a hand on Mordred’s shoulder. The boy pressed into the touch, his magic curling up against Merlin’s. “Arthur isn’t going to touch you.” He fixed his master with a pointed look. “Is he?”</p><p>Arthur, in the middle of eating his food, swallowed before saying, far more gently than Merlin expected of him, “Of course I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not some brute; knights are chivalrous and kind.”</p><p>Snorting, Merlin repeated, “Kind?! I haven’t seen any of that kindness coming <em>my </em>way.”</p><p>              “I haven’t locked you up in the stocks every day,” Arthur said. “That’s showing great kindness on my part.”</p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes, about to retort, but then Mordred tugged on his hand and said, “Emrys.”</p><p>              “What is it?” Merlin asked immediately.</p><p>              ‘<em>Does Arthur mean it when he says he won’t hurt me?</em>’</p><p>Merlin sighed. He’d been encouraging Mordred to speak out loud, as per Gaius’ instructions, but this wasn’t the kind of question that Arthur should be hearing.</p><p>              ‘<em>As long as he doesn’t know you have magic</em>,’ Merlin told him mentally, a little subdued. ‘<em>Even then, I don’t think he’d execute you. He’s not as harsh as Uther.</em>’</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said.</p><p>Arthur spoke then, his eyes narrowed as they flicked between the two boys he thought were cousins. “Why did he call you Emrys?”</p><p>Merlin froze. <em>Not good, not good</em>. He scoured his brain for an excuse, or reason, or really anything other than ‘I’m apparently known to the druids’. “He…it’s a nickname,” he blurted out.</p><p>An eyebrow rose. “A nickname? What sort of nickname is ‘Emrys’?”</p><p>              “It’s actually ‘Embers’,” Merlin said, a little too quickly, but luckily Arthur didn’t seem to notice. “I—it’s a long story, you don’t want to hear it. But…yeah. Mordred’s nickname for me is ‘Embers’, so you, uh, might hear him call me that sometimes. Nothing to worry about.”</p><p>Confusion flickered across Mordred’s face, before something clicked and the young druid nodded jerkily. “I call Merlin ‘Embers’.”</p><p>Arthur frowned, then shrugged. “I really don’t care what you call him.” He glanced out the window, then said, “I need to get to training.”</p><p>              “Yes, sire,” Merlin said. “You do.”</p><p>              “<em>We </em>do,” Arthur corrected. “I assume your cousin will be joining us?”</p><p>Merlin looked to Mordred for an answer, and the boy nodded.</p><p>              “Mordred will.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>arthur is a prat but even he's not mean to traumatised children</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Gwen realises that hatred of magic is a bad thing for Camelot, and Merlin awkward except when he isn't.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yeah...i can't do summaries at all...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              “All training means is hitting each other with pointy sticks,” Merlin explained to Mordred.</p><p>They were out on the training grounds, by the castle gate, and Merlin was sorting various swords into piles of ‘undamaged’ and ‘unusable’. A dozen metres away, Arthur and one of the other knights were clashing swords, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing out in the bright midmorning sun.</p><p>              “Sounds boring,” Mordred said. He shuffled across the grass so he was a little closer to Merlin, their knees brushing.</p><p>              “It is,” Merlin said, grimacing. “It’s worse when Arthur gets me involved.”</p><p>              “You can fight with a sword?”</p><p>Merlin didn’t think Mordred needed to sound <em>quite </em>that surprised, but…well…</p><p>              “No, I can’t,” he had to admit. “Not well.”</p><p>Something like a smile flickered across Mordred’s face, there one second and gone the next. “I thought so.”</p><p>              “You could sound a little more surprised,” Merlin muttered.</p><p>Mordred shrugged. “You’re Emrys. You don’t need to fight with a sword.”</p><p>              “I do,” Merlin said, “because that’s what Arthur expects me to use.” He then added, ‘<em>Also, you should call me either Merlin or Embers.</em>’</p><p>His nose wrinkling, Mordred asked, “Do I <em>have</em> to?”</p><p>              “Yes.”</p><p>              “Aww.”</p><p>              “Who’s this, then?” a new voice asked, and Merlin startled. Mordred’s mouth snapped shut, his face paling as he pressed closer to Merlin.</p><p>Stood above them was one of the Knights, who Merlin only vaguely recognised (Leo? Lion? no, that couldn't be right), with a broad smile on his face.</p><p>              “Uh…my cousin?” Merlin said, unsure why the Knight was asking. “His name’s Mordred.”</p><p>The Knight’s smile softened a little when he looked to Mordred, and he said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mordred.”</p><p>Mordred just blinked at him, frozen in place. After a minute, the silence got a little awkward.</p><p>              “He’s shy,” Merlin offered as an explanation. “This is his first time in Camelot, he’s never, uh, been to a town this size before.”</p><p>              “Ah.” The Knight nodded like that explanation made sense.</p><p><em>Thank the Gods the Knights are all thick</em>.</p><p>              “I won’t keep you, then.”</p><p>And with that, he strode off.</p><p>Merlin let out a breath, and Mordred relaxed against him, iron-tight grip loosening on Merlin’s arm.</p><p>              ‘<em>What was that?</em>’ he asked.</p><p>              “I’m not sure,” Merlin answered quietly. “He was probably just being friendly. Most of the Knights recognise me as Arthur’s servant by this point. Probably just wondered who the small child sitting next to me was.”</p><p>Irritation crossed Mordred’s face. “Not small.”</p><p>              “Oh, yes, you are,” Merlin told him, a grin spreading on his face. “You’re <em>tiny</em>.”</p><p>              “I’m average.”</p><p>Merlin laughed, a proper laugh that carried across the training grounds and made a couple of Knights startle. “That makes you tiny. More than a foot shorter than me, in fact. You’re small.”</p><p>Mordred pulled a face at him; Merlin pulled one back.</p><p>              “Merlin!” Arthur shouted from across the field. “Get over here!”</p><p>              “Ugh,” Merlin groaned, pushing to his feet.</p><p>Mordred followed him up, clutching onto his wrist as his eyes widened again and shoulders stiffened. “What does he want?”</p><p>              “He’ll want me to hold a shield for him to hit. You can stand to one side, don’t worry.”</p><p>Mordred bit his lip, but nodded anyway, and followed Merlin across the field, unaware of the looks he was drawing.</p><p>Merlin knew that people would find it strange to see a kid following him around, especially at the training grounds, but he did his best to walk with purpose so they’d go back to whatever they were doing.</p><p>The moment he was within range, Arthur thrust a battered shield into his hands. “Merlin, I want you to block my blows.”</p><p>              “Great,” Merlin said unenthusiastically. <em>“Just</em> what I wanted to do today.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>             </p><p>              “What happened to <em>you</em>?”</p><p>Gwen looked concerned, stopping in the hallway to brush a hand across Merlin’s bruised forearms.</p><p>              “Arthur did,” Merlin said, grimacing. “He chose me as his favourite punching bag today.”</p><p>              “He’s mean,” Mordred added.</p><p>Gwen huffed a laugh, but shook her head. “You’re not supposed to talk about the Prince like that.”</p><p>              “Then he shouldn’t attack his servants.”</p><p>              “Arthur’s not all bad,” Merlin had to admit. At Mordred’s incredulous look he explained, “He risked his life, and disobeyed his father, to save mine.”</p><p>Mordred scrunched his nose up. “What happened?”</p><p>              “Those <em>were </em>exceptional circumstances,” Gwen reminded Merlin. “Merlin drunk poison intended for Arthur.”</p><p>              “You <em>did</em>?”</p><p>              “I did,” Merlin said. “I’m fine now.”</p><p>              “You weren’t for a while,” Gwen said, her smile fading. “Please don’t drink poison, Mordred.”</p><p>              “I won’t,” Mordred assured her. “I like being alive.”</p><p>Merlin couldn’t help the cold dread that sliced through him at those words because – well, most ten-year-olds didn’t know that they liked being alive unless they’d contemplated their death. And—Merlin didn’t want Mordred to be thinking about burning at the stake or having his head sliced off.</p><p>              “I’m glad you do,” Gwen said, her smile returning in full force.</p><p>She hadn’t figured out the implications of Mordred’s statement, but she wasn’t a magic-user; she wouldn’t understand.</p><p>              “We’re on our way to the kitchens, to get Arthur’s dinner,” Merlin said.</p><p>Gwen nodded, her smile widening. “I’m heading that way too.”</p><p>They started down the corridor, in the direction of the kitchens.</p><p>              “Morgana also decided to take her dinner alone?”</p><p>Leaning in closer, Gwen checked that no one else was near before whispering, “She’s upset by Uther’s rants about the missing druid boy.”</p><p>              “Ah.”</p><p>Mordred paled slightly, his gaze flicking to Merlin as he clutched his hand tighter.</p><p>              “Well,” Gwen said, “you know how she feels about him.”</p><p>Letting slip a slightly bitter laugh, Merlin nodded. “I might have figured something out.”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Gwen murmured, before fixing a smile on her face and directing it at Mordred. “It’s nothing to worry about, though. I’m sure everything will pass within the week.”</p><p>Curling slightly in on himself, Mordred gave a small nod in return.</p><p>              “So, how’s your day been?” Gwen continued, cheerful and bright. “You saw the Knights training?”</p><p>              “I did,” Mordred said. “They kept hitting each other with swords, which I didn’t understand” –Merlin chuckled at that– “but the metal was shiny and pretty in the sunlight.”</p><p>Gwen’s face creased with curiosity. “Have you not seen metal reflecting sunlight before?”</p><p>              “Not much.” Mordred shook his head. “At home, we don’t use weapons. And we don’t have much metal.”</p><p>Merlin was about to open his mouth, to ask something about druids, but was cut off by a shout of surprise down the corridor. All three of them turned to see two guards sprinting towards them, their chainmail clinking.</p><p>              “Stop right there!” one of them shouted. “You’re under arrest!”</p><p>Merlin <em>froze</em>, horror screeching a discordant note. Every instinct was screaming at him to run but—no, that was a terrible idea, the guards had no reason to be suspicious of them, and running would just tell them they had something to hide. He clamped a hand down on Mordred’s shoulder before the boy could bolt, whispering in his mind to <em>stay put</em>. Next to him, Gwen straightened her back and set her jaw even as she clutched her hands in her skirt, trying to keep them steady.</p><p>              “What for?” Merlin asked, sharp.</p><p>The other guard jabbed his spear at Mordred; Mordred flinched back, and Merlin took a step between the two of them. “That’s the druid boy everyone’s looking for.”</p><p>              “This is my <em>cousin</em>,” Merlin corrected, “and I’d rather you didn’t point your weapon at him.”</p><p>The first guard snorted derisively. “Yeah, right. That kid matches the description of the druid <em>exactly</em>. We’re taking him to the King.”</p><p>              ‘<em>To the king?</em>’ Mordred cried, panic making itself clear on his face. ‘<em>I don’t want to see the</em> king.’</p><p>Gwen’s and Merlin’s eyes met for a second, and something close to a grimace passed over her face.</p><p>              “I don’t think the King will be interested in the cousin of a servant.” Gwen’s voice was softer, and she wasn’t immediately going on the offensive; probably a better idea, Merlin had to admit.</p><p>Doubt sparked the second guard’s eyes, but the first’s face twisted with anger.</p><p>              “If that <em>druid</em>” –he spat the word like it was a horrible thing that would taint his tongue if he lingered on it for too long– “is innocent, then why does he look so damn scared? Huh?”</p><p>              “He’s a ten-year-old boy, only halfway through his first week in a town,” Gwen said. “He’s having spears thrust at him, and is being told he’s a druid, and is going to be taken before the king. I think that would terrify anyone that age, don’t you? In fact, I think that would scare people of most ages.”</p><p>              “John...Gwen makes a point,” the second guard muttered to his colleague, but the first resolutely shook his head.</p><p>              “It’s our duty to capture the wicked druid running around our town. If that means interrogating this boy, then that’s just our job.”</p><p>The second glanced down at Mordred – <em>way</em> down, because he was about a foot and a half taller than him – and then back at the first. “John…”</p><p>              “No,” the one called John snapped. “This boy could be a threat to good people, and we must protect the innocent from harm.”</p><p>              “You think that Mordred is a threat?” Merlin narrowed his eyes at the guards. “That he’s a big bad sorcerer, going to gobble you up in the night?”</p><p>The second guard couldn’t help but snort at that, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth when the one called John glared at him.</p><p>              “I think that this boy matches the description we have, and we need to do as we were ordered: take him to the King. If you try to resist for any longer, we’ll take you to the King too.”</p><p>Merlin did not let himself show a drop of his fear that sliced through him at those words, and instead crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m coming anyway.”</p><p>The one called John was taken aback by that; so was the other, as-of-yet unnamed, one. Merlin was willing to hazard a guess and say that not many people they arrested went before the King willingly.</p><p>              “I am too,” Gwen added, her face full of concern.</p><p>              “You <em>are</em>?”</p><p>Gwen held her head up high and brushed down her skirt and said, “Yes, we are. Now, are you going to lead the way?”</p><p>The two guards stared at the three of them for a moment longer before retreating a few steps to have a whispered conversation. Merlin took the opportunity to try and reassure Mordred, whose terror was still painted in the stark lines of his gaping mouth and bone-white fists clutching at Merlin tightly enough to crush bones.</p><p>              ‘<em>It’s going to be okay,</em>’ he promised.</p><p>Mordred looked up at Merlin with helpless eyes. ‘<em>How can it be okay?</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>These guards have no proof that you’re the druid boy. Morgana and Gaius can both speak for us, and Arthur might even as well. At least a dozen people in the castle have heard me call you my cousin. We’re going to go the King, the guards will tell their story and be laughed out of the room.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>What about my triskelion?</em>’ Mordred asked.</p><p>The thought jarred Merlin, and he wracked his brains for a moment before answering, ‘<em>I think I know a spell.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>You </em>think<em>?</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>I do know.</em>’</p><p>Merlin checked that the guards were distracted, before ducking his head so no one would see his eyes flash gold and murmuring the words of an enchantment he’d seen in the spell book a few weeks ago. At the time, it had been memorable because of its apparent uselessness, but now…</p><p>              ‘<em>That tingles,</em>’ Mordred said, tapping his chest where the druid mark sat under his shirt.</p><p>              ‘<em>Look,</em>’ Merlin told him, ‘<em>it should be gone.</em>’</p><p>Surreptitiously pulling the collar away from his neck, Mordred’s head bobbed as he looked down his shirt. His eyebrows shot up, the fear on his face morphing into surprise. ‘<em>It is gone.</em>’</p><p>Merlin tried and failed to hide his sigh of relief that it had worked. ‘<em>Thank the Gods. That’s meant to cover embarrassing scars and spots and stuff. I wasn’t sure if it would work on a tattoo.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>How long does it last?</em>’ Mordred asked.</p><p>              ‘<em>As long as I can hold it,</em>’ Merlin answered. ‘<em>It’s…draining. So probably a few hours, at most.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>But…you’re Emrys—sorry, </em>Embers<em>. You’re Embers. Surely you don’t get tired?</em>’</p><p>Merlin shook his head. ‘<em>I absolutely do. I’m not that powerful. But the main thing is that it’s worked. Are you feeling a bit better now?</em>’</p><p>Mordred bit his lip, glanced back at the whispering guards, before nodding very, very slowly. A reassuring smile gracing her face, Gwen rested her hand on his shoulder.</p><p>              “Nothing’s going to happen,” she told him gently. “Don’t worry.”</p><p>              “Okay,” Mordred said. The words were barely a whisper.</p><p>The guards finished their conversation and stomped back over. The second guard, the unnamed one, was looking disgruntled, and the first, the one called John, triumphant, and Merlin’s heart sank.</p><p>              “We’ll be taking you to the King now,” the one called John said. “All three of you.”</p><p>Merlin said, “Lead the way.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin seemed to tense with every step they took towards the council chambers, and Gwen couldn’t help her worry. Mordred, tucked into the younger servant’s side, had pressed his face against Merlin’s shirt, trusting him to keep him from bumping into anything.</p><p>Gwen didn’t, however, let her worry affect her expression or posture; instead, she kept her back straight and her face calm, channelling the confidence she’d been watching Morgana wield like a weapon for years. Showing weakness wouldn’t be good right now, and John was looking smug enough that Gwen honestly didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her panic.</p><p>He had to be a new guard, because Gwen hadn’t seen him before. She was familiar, at the very least, with most of the garrison; she would greet them in the mornings, when she came up from the lower town, and say goodbye in the evenings.</p><p>The other guard was called Edward, and Gwen had seen him a few times. Had given him one of her little cakes, once, that time she’d baked too many to eat by herself and brought them in to work. He’d known her name when he’d thrown himself down the corridor at her and her friends; he’d known her name when he’d jabbed a spear in their faces.</p><p>Why did Uther let his hatred of magic tear people apart?</p><p>Gwen wasn’t someone who doubted her King that much, and she went out of her way to serve her kingdom well, but…this was the second time, in just three and a half months, that her faith in him had been questioned.</p><p>First, he’d accused her of sorcery, and thrown her into the dungeons to be killed. Now he wanted to execute at ten-year-old for the crime of being a druid. Most people in Camelot knew that the druids were peaceful; couldn’t Uther just send him home?</p><p>Gwen was scared of magic, she knew that. But…she was having a hard time being scared of Mordred.</p><p>              “Here we are, then,” Edward grunted when they stopped outside the council chambers.</p><p>He gave the guards on door duty a brief explanation, and one of them slipped inside; a moment later, the doors opened fully, and John shoved Gwen and Merlin and Mordred in to face the King and the Council and, what felt like, half the Knights of Camelot.</p><p>              “You bring me the druid boy?” Uther asked. His voice boomed in the otherwise silent room, and Gwen resisted the instinct to curtsey.</p><p><em>You are not a servant right now</em>, she reminded herself. <em>You have been brought here by guards who want to kill Mordred.</em></p><p>And Mordred looked <em>terrified</em>.</p><p>              “Yes, your majesty,” John said, swiftly kneeling and bowing his head. “This boy exactly matches the description. We – that’s Edward and me, sire – we found him wandering ‘round the castle with these two servants.”</p><p>Gaius, standing to one side, gave Merlin a look that would have made Gwen giggle at any other time.</p><p>              “He matches the description?” Uther repeated, his voice smooth and silky, a snake about to strike, his gaze focusing on Mordred like he was prey.</p><p>              “Er, yes, your majesty,” Edward said.</p><p>Merlin took a deep breath, like he was about to do something incredibly stupid, and then blurted out, “Mordred’s just my cousin!”</p><p>Lying to her friends was one thing, but only then did it dawn on Gwen <em>exactly </em>how great their crimes were: they were lying to the King of Camelot. To his <em>face</em>.</p><p>              “Excuse me, <em>boy</em>?”</p><p>Gwen <em>wanted</em> to speak up, to use Uther’s passing familiarity of her as Morgana’s servant to her advantage, but every single bone in her body was <em>screaming </em>at her, screaming that she was lying to her King, she was <em>lying to her King</em>, she <em>should not be doing this</em>—</p><p>              “My lord, may I speak?” Gaius’ voice asked, and his voice was calm and familiar and Gwen was pathetically grateful that he was speaking up for Mordred when she couldn’t let herself.</p><p>              “Yes, Gaius,” Uther said, leaning back in his chair with his usual casual grace. He waved his hand. “Go ahead.”</p><p>Gaius inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you, my lord.” He glanced at Merlin, and there was something significant about his expression but Gwen didn’t know what. “This boy isn’t the druid boy who’s managed to evade your guards; he’s Merlin’s cousin, visiting from Cenred’s kingdom.”</p><p>              “Oh?” Uther arched an eyebrow. “Is this true, boy?” he asked, directing the question at Merlin.</p><p>Merlin nodded quickly, and—Gwen was always startled by how brave Merlin was, but this was a whole new level: lying to the king. “Yes, sire. Mordred’s my aunt’s son. He lives in a village in Essetir, he’s visiting me for two or three weeks. He’s not a druid or anything, and he definitely hasn’t committed any crimes.”</p><p>              “And we are to believe you?”</p><p>Before Merlin could answer, the doors burst open and Arthur strode in, slightly out of breath. Had he run to get there?</p><p>              “What’s going on?” he demanded.</p><p>              “Your manservant has been accused of consorting with the druid boy.”</p><p>Arthur scoffed. “Merlin? Consorting with the druid boy?”</p><p>Uther didn’t say anything, instead just gesturing to the two guards; they were both frozen in place, and then John stuttered out, “Y-yes, sire. We found this man with a boy who looks like the druid boy—”</p><p>              “We have very little idea of the druid boy’s appearance,” Arthur snapped. “Only that he is short with dark hair. <em>This </em>boy” –he pointed to Mordred– “is Merlin’s cousin.”</p><p><em>Oh, thank god. </em>Gwen let out a breath, air hissing out. With Arthur defending them, Mordred would be fine.</p><p>              “You are sure of this?” Uther asked.</p><p>              “Yes, father.” Arthur nodded. “Not only can a dozen of my knights vouch for that fact, but I also checked myself when I saw the boy. He has a letter from his aunt, written in the language of Cenred’s kingdom.”</p><p>Something shifted in Uther’s face, and Gwen didn’t know what it meant, but Arthur clearly did.</p><p>He quickly added, “That is, after all, the kingdom from which Merlin came.”</p><p>Uther didn’t look quite convinced, but before he could say anything more, Gaius stepped forward again. “Sire, may I propose a quick test? If Mordred were, in fact, a druid, he would bear the triskelion on his chest or arms. I can check that, and this will give us a definitive answer.”</p><p><em>What was Gaius doing? Mordred </em>did <em>bear the triskelion, in stark black ink on his chest. Surely any test would show that? But Gaius had to know that, had to have a plan of some kind…</em></p><p>              “Take off your shirt, boy.”</p><p>Mordred tensed at being directly addressed for the first time, and Gwen wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go but—for the moment, she couldn’t. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have moved from her spot, couldn’t have forced her legs to walk when such <em>fear </em>was coursing through her.</p><p>Pressing himself somehow closer to Merlin, Mordred whispered something that Gwen could only hear part of; the only word she heard was “Embers.”</p><p>Merlin whispered something back, and then Mordred took a step away before taking a deep breath and shakily pulling his shirt off.</p><p>Plain white skin was there where, a minute ago, Gwen had been certain there was a tattoo that would damn them.</p><p>
  <em>What’s happened? Has Mordred used a spell?</em>
</p><p>              “Well, you can see as well as I can, sire,” Gaius said. “This boy does not bear the triskelion; hence, he is not, in fact, a druid.”</p><p>              “Ah,” Uther said. “I see.” His gaze cut to the guards. “So you bring before me an innocent boy.”</p><p>John and Edward both stiffened; Gwen was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that look, but she also felt a swell of sympathy for the guards.</p><p>              “I-I’m sorry, my lord,” Edward stuttered out, “we didn’t want to let anything slip by.”</p><p>              “Leave,” Uther commanded, dismissing them with a casual wave of his hand. They both bowed again before hurrying out. “You too,” he added to Gwen and Merlin and Mordred.</p><p><em>Thank god</em>.</p><p>Gwen curtsied before ducking her head and following the guards out, Merlin right on her heels with Mordred still tucked against him. Only once they were down the hallway did they stop, and Gwen finally relaxed.</p><p>Merlin didn’t just relax, he sagged against the will as he let out a hissing breath, Mordred pulling away just a fraction to clasp at Gwen’s hand too.</p><p>              “Thank the Gods,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through his hair.</p><p>              “Thank Arthur,” Gwen said.</p><p>Merlin groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. “He really came through for us. I thought…”</p><p>He trailed off, something pained crossing his face, and Gwen realised that he wasn’t prepared to help Mordred right then, so she plastered her softest smile to crouch down to Mordred’s level.</p><p>              “See? Everything’s turned out fine.”</p><p>Mordred nodded. “I’m glad they’re not going to kill me.”</p><p>The words landed a blow on Gwen’s heart, aftershocks rippling through her at the ten-year-old who thought that being allowed to live was a treat. It took her a moment to come up with a response. “No,” she agreed at last, “they’re not going to kill you.”</p><p>
  <em>What has Uther done to this kingdom?</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Morgana hurried into Gaius’ chambers, holding her skirts up to free her legs for running, a look of panic on her face.</p><p>              “Is Mordred alright?”</p><p>Merlin quickly nodded, then jerked his thumb towards the closed door of his bedroom. “Just gone to bed.”</p><p>              “Thank god,” Morgana breathed. She dropped her skirt and it fell a foot, back down to the floor, and Merlin wondered why women were expected to wear something that made it so much harder to move.</p><p>              “You heard about it?”</p><p>Her throat bobbing as she swallowed, Morgana nodded. “Gwen just told me.”</p><p>              “How’s she doing?” Merlin asked. “We kind of focused on Mordred, but it must have brought back when Uther tried to have her killed.”</p><p>Morgana frowned, then shook her head. “I didn’t think about that – I dashed here when I heard. I should have thought about that.”</p><p>              “I should have too,” Merlin said.</p><p>And…he should have. He’d been so worried about Mordred, and scared of what the King might do to the three of them, and Gaius, that he’d forgotten that Gwen had struggled through something shockingly similar not long before.</p><p>              “I’ll check on her now,” Morgana said, more subdued than before, when she had burst into the room with a frantic expression.</p><p>Merlin gave her a weary smile. “I think Gwen will tell you she’s fine.”</p><p>              “The result isn’t always the most important part,” Morgana said, “because asking will tell her that I’m thinking of her.”</p><p>              “Huh,” Merlin said. “Could you tell her I’m worried, too?”</p><p>              “Yes, Merlin.”</p><p>              “Thanks.” The corner's of Merlin's mouth lifted, his smile growing more genuine. “I’ll tell Mordred you came by to check on him.”</p><p>Morgana smiled too, wide and bright in the way it never was when she was in court. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The first thing Merlin registered when he woke up was that something was prodding his arm.</p><p>              “Emrys,” a high-pitched voice whispered, “Emrys, wake up.”</p><p>              “Huh?” he groaned, turning over only to hiss at the sudden and blinding sunlight. He raised his hand to block it out, and squinted to make out the shadowy figure standing over him. “<em>Mordred</em>,” he realised. “What is it?”</p><p>              “Gaius told me to wake you up,” Mordred told him. “He says you’re going to be late for work.”</p><p>It took Merlin’s half-asleep brain a moment to catch up with the words, and then he bolted upright, tossing his blanket away. “Shit!”</p><p>He regretted it less than a second later, when Mordred flinched back; Merlin winced before apologising and getting to his feet more calmly.</p><p>              “It’s okay,” Mordred said, barely a whisper. “I’m just jumpy.”</p><p>              “If you don’t like it, then I shouldn’t do it,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Within reason, of course.”</p><p>Mordred gave him a small smile, before looking down at his feet. “Can I come with you again today?”</p><p>              “Sure,” Merlin said.</p><p>He’d need to distract Arthur with taunts again, but once that was covered, they’d be in the clear.</p><p>But when he moved to leave the room, to hurry to attend to Arthur before the clotpole got annoyed, Mordred murmured, “Wait.”</p><p>Merlin stopped, turning to look at the young druid. “Yes?”</p><p>              “I…” Mordred glanced up at Merlin for just a second before looking down at his hands. He tried again, the words coming out more firmly the second time around. “There’s something I need to say.”</p><p>Merlin blinked, then nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>              “Just, um, thank you. For…helping me.”</p><p>              “It’s cool,” Merlin said awkwardly.</p><p>He’d never known what to say when people thanked him, especially for things that he thought were just basic courtesy. Well, maybe more than <em>basic </em>courtesy, but still in the range of ‘not being a shit person’.</p><p>              “Cool,” Mordred said, then: “You’re going to be late.”</p><p>The reminded startled Merlin again, and he swore before dashing down the stairs and out of Gaius’ chambers with only a shouted ‘good morning’ to the physician. Only the faint footsteps, and brush of familiar magic, let him know that Mordred was following him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>             </p><p>              “I just don’t understand why they all love killing things so much,” Merlin said for the third time as he moved around the armoury, collecting everything the prince would need for a hunt.</p><p>Mordred, who’d firmly tucked himself into Gwen’s side when he learned that Merlin was leaving, let out a distressed noise.</p><p>              “It’s a…pride thing,” Gwen said. “He’s trying to prove himself before the ceremony next week.” As one of the two people in the room who’d grown up in Camelot, she felt that that would do as an explanation.</p><p>As expected, Morgana disagreed.</p><p>              “Hunting is a contest in which men attempt to prove they have the biggest dick,” she drawled, rolling her eyes, and making Merlin choke and Gwen clap her hands over Mordred’s ears.</p><p>              “Milady! Mordred’s <em>right here</em>.”</p><p>Morgana arched a perfect eyebrow. “So?”</p><p>              “<em>So</em>…he’s young. That’s an inappropriate comment.”</p><p>              “Oh.” Morgana brushed a hand along one of the crossbows Merlin had yet to gather up. “My apologies.”</p><p>Mordred, who looked more confused than anything, just pushed Gwen’s hands off his ears and murmured, “Don’t worry.”</p><p>Gwen did not agree with that assessment. She met Morgana’s gaze evenly as she said, “Perhaps milady should stop swearing in the presence of a ten-year-old?”</p><p>              “If you say so,” Morgana said.</p><p>              “That applies to you too, Merlin.” Gwen directed the comment into the shadowed depths of the armoury, and received only a grunt in reply. “Merlin?”</p><p>Merlin emerged with a mischievous grin on his face, cradling a dusty crossbow, and spiderwebs plastered to his jacket. “Yeah, I heard you. Now, consider this: a crossbow that looks and feels like it can aim properly, but actually <em>can’t</em>.”</p><p>              “Good?” Gwen figured that was the response she was supposed to give, even though she wasn’t particularly invested in the situation.</p><p>Mordred, however, perked up considerably, his head almost knocking against Gwen’s elbow as he straightened. “You’re going to stop him from killing animals?”</p><p>              “I’m going to try to,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “Arthur won’t like that,” Morgana warned.</p><p>              “I’ve got to try.”</p><p>Mordred nodded enthusiastically in agreement, his hair rustling against Gwen’s dress. Merlin smiled down at him, and two of them did the staring that Gwen had learned meant they were talking in their minds.</p><p>Then, Merlin gathered up all the supplies he’d collected and said, “We’re leaving in about five minutes, I’m going to be late.”</p><p>              “Don’t worry about Mordred,” Gwen told him, “we’ll look after him.”</p><p>              “Thanks.” Merlin flashed her a brief smile, winked at Mordred, then patted Morgana’s shoulder on his way out.</p><p>              “I don’t think that man could be on time to his own death,” Morgana murmured, the words horrified.</p><p>Mordred said, “You sound like Arthur.”</p><p>Her jaw dropping almost comically, Morgana exclaimed, “Heaven forbid! You must warn me in the future, Mordred, else I fear Camelot will have a third fool in the palace. Two is quite enough already.”</p><p>Gwen laughed at that, and Mordred glanced up at her as if for confirmation before laughing too.</p><p>              “Now, how on earth shall we occupy while Merlin and Arthur are away?” Mischief glinted in Morgana’s eyes.</p><p>Gwen, used to her mistress, smiled at the floor. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, milady.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Mordred does not have fashion sense, but Arthur doesn't either so can he really comment?, and Morgana being protective. Oh yeah, and some plot too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and so...the story moves on to 'excalibur'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin blinked once, twice. The monstrosity before him did not change shape or form.</p><p>              “Do you like it?” Mordred asked, and Merlin’s instincts had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but—that was a genuine question, from a genuine child, asked with genuine concern.</p><p>He couldn’t help but give the druid boy a smile. “Of course I do.” He hesitated, then, trying get a better understanding of the situation, asked, “Did you help make it?”</p><p>Mordred nodded enthusiastically. “Gwen was working on a dress for Morgana, and she asked me for help.”</p><p>              “He was excellent help,” Gwen input with fond smile.</p><p>On the other side of the room, next a cringing Uther, Morgana sat in a bright orange dress with a tartan cloth draped across it. Merlin had never seen her more dignified, but he’d also never seen her in anything less than a beautiful dress.</p><p>The little smirk on Morgana’s face told Merlin that she was enjoying everyone’s horror. Every time Merlin had refilled her or Uther’s goblets, the King had been trying to point out that her outfit was terrible, and she’d been pretending to be oblivious.</p><p>              “I didn’t think it would look good, but Morgana kept on saying that she loved it,” Mordred said, and that bright joy wasn’t something Merlin had seen on him yet.</p><p>If this was what happened when he went away for a week, he’d need to go away more often.</p><p>              “Has Arthur seen it yet?” Gwen asked, her eyes sparkling with laughter. At such an important event, she’d never let herself give in to actual giggling or, heaven forbid, snorting, but Merlin could see she was enjoying herself just as much.</p><p>              “He can’t have,” Merlin said. “He was worrying about the ceremony, and then he returned to his chambers to check his armour was really <em>sparkling</em>. I left a few minutes before him, so he’ll arrive in the next minute or two.”</p><p>Gwen nodded, and then straightened when the guards at the doors moved to open them for the next guest. She rearranged the jug in her hands so it was resting in one palm; the picture of professionalism.</p><p>Stood next to her, with his battered jacket and Mordred clinging to his arm, Merlin couldn’t help but feel a bit…lacking. Oh, well. It had never stopped, or even slowed, him before.</p><p>Sure enough, the doors opened to reveal Arthur, soon-to-be <em>Crown</em> Prince of Camelot. Without a word, everyone stood and applauded, and the grin on Arthur’s face told Merlin that none of this was doing the man’s ego any favours.</p><p>The entire hall watched with bated breath as Uther spoke the formal words; Arthur responded in kind.</p><p>Merlin could pinpoint the exact moment he noticed Morgana’s dress, for he stumbled over his response to Uther’s question, and his mouth fell open slightly, and he looked at her such horror that it was a struggle for Merlin to suppress his laughter.</p><p>              “You can’t laugh,” Gwen hissed, even as she pressed her lips together to contain her own giggles.</p><p>              “I am trying my hardest not to,” Merlin whispered back, grinning.</p><p>Arthur managed to get through the rest of the ceremony, but his gaze kept on straying to the orange and tartan monstrosity that was Morgana’s dress.</p><p>Finally, once the ceremonial exchange was finished and Uther had placed the crown upon Arthur’s head and proclaimed him Crown Prince of Camelot, everyone applauded and Arthur smiled at them before retreating to his usual seat at the King’s right hand.</p><p>As soon as he was there, Merlin moved closer under the pretence of filling up goblets; Mordred stuck by his side, as usual, and they were in range to hear Arthur asked Morgana, “Where on earth did you get that <em>hideous </em>dress?”</p><p>At Merlin’s side, Mordred stiffened, clutching more tightly at his elbow. ‘<em>What does he mean?</em>’</p><p>Before Merlin could assure the young boy that Arthur was just being a prat, and not to worry because Morgana’s dress was actually quite lovely, Morgana saw the shock on Mordred’s face and spat out, far more viciously than Merlin had expected, “Like you can talk. You parade around with your chest gaping out of your shirt half the time, then call my beautiful dress hideous like the entire kingdom doesn’t know you’re a fashion <em>disaster</em>.”</p><p>Arthur’s jaw dropped. “I’m not a fashion disaster! That is <em>not </em>a nice dress!”</p><p>              ‘<em>I thought it was very nice,</em>’ Mordred said, and Merlin glanced down to see his eyes watering as he bit his lip.</p><p>
  <em>Is he about to cry? Oh no, oh no, oh no—</em>
</p><p>Merlin met Morgana’s gaze, then pointedly jerked his head in Mordred’s direction. Something set in her face, and she lifted her chin before telling Arthur, “This is the nicest dress I’ve ever worn in my life, and I’m honoured to be the lucky woman wearing it.”</p><p>There was a brief pause, as everyone in the surrounding area tried to process those words, in which time Mordred squeezed at Merlin’s elbow.</p><p>              ‘<em>Embers! Embers! Morgana </em>does <em>like it!</em>’</p><p>Merlin gave him a smile. ‘<em>See? Arthur’s just a prat. You know he can’t even dress himself?</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>I know,</em>’ Mordred said. ‘<em>You said so.</em>’</p><p>When Merlin returned to Gwen’s side, eavesdropping mission complete, she leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Arthur thinks Morgana’s just being stubborn.”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin agreed, watching his master gape at the woman he’d grown up with, “he does.”</p><p>The two of them – Mordred didn’t count, because he genuinely thought that Morgana’s dress was pretty – watched with equal parts horror and delight as Morgana laid into Arthur for daring to say that her dress wasn’t nice.</p><p>Once she was finished, she winked at Merlin, who grinned back, just before Arthur stood, looking a little flustered by the berating, to give a toast.</p><p>Before he could say anything, the stained-glass window at the far end of the hall shattered and a Knight dressed in black burst in atop a black horse.</p><p>              “What in the Devil’s name?” Uther shouted.</p><p>Merlin flinched backwards, and Mordred fully recoiled, twisting so he was hidden behind Merlin. Next to them, Gwen almost dropped her jug as she started.</p><p>Their swords whooshing out of their sheaths, three of the Knights moved to join Arthur as he leapt over the table to face the newcomer.</p><p>The black knight approached, still on horseback, and nobles and their servants alike hurried out of the room, tripping over themselves in their desperation to get away. Merlin and Gwen didn’t move.</p><p>And then the Black Knight tossed his gauntlet down.</p><p>Merlin only vaguely knew what that meant, but from Gwen’s gasp, he didn’t think it was a good thing; the metal clattered on the floor, the sound ringing through the silent hall.</p><p>Arthur sheathed his sword, because he was an idiot, and went down to pick up the gauntlet, only for another knight to get there first.</p><p>              “I, Sire Owain, accept your challenge,” the knight declared.</p><p>The Black Knight’s head twisted, and then in an odd voice he said, “Single combat, noon tomorrow, to the death.”</p><p>With those words, he galloped down the hall and back out of the window, and Merlin didn’t think he’d seen anyone so dramatic in his entire life.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>             </p><p>              “Are you sure that Mordred should be here for this?” Gaius asked for what felt like the hundredth time.</p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes, and Mordred let out an indignant noise.</p><p>              “Mordred said he wants to be here,” Merlin told him, “so he’s here.”</p><p>Hmm-ing, Gaius said, “Just because a child says they want to do something, it doesn’t make that thing good for them.”</p><p>              “I’ll be fine,” Mordred said. “I’ve never seen a tournament before. Are their swords going to shimmer like in training?”</p><p>              “I think so,” Merlin said. “They’re fighting with them, aren’t they?”</p><p>Gaius looked like he was trying very hard to restrain himself from commenting something critical, and instead just said, “Watch the fight.” His gaze cut to Mordred. “If you don’t like it, tell me and I’ll take you somewhere else.”</p><p>Mordred frowned. “I’ll be fine.” Merlin didn’t see why he shouldn’t be believed.</p><p>Sire Owain strode past them then, his Camelot cloak billowing, with Arthur at his side.</p><p>Merlin didn’t know the man very well, but he’d been kinder than some on the hunt the previous week; he’d been quick in putting the animals out of their misery, and had once helped Merlin to his feet after he’d fallen and Arthur had just laughed.</p><p>He didn’t want him to die, but the Knight was skilled and could probably beat the Black Knight. Right?</p><p> </p><p>Sire Owain was lying on the ground, and Merlin didn’t think to look away before the sword came down and pierced his heart.</p><p>He’d never seen someone kill with such <em>ease</em> before; even Valiant’s snakes had taken time to finish the kill. But this…this was one man, slaughtering another while half of Camelot watched. And no one could stop it, and no one <em>would </em>stop it, because it said so in a book of rules.</p><p>Magic flickered with distress beside him, and he turned to see Mordred with his hands clapped over his eyes.</p><p><em>Oh no</em>.</p><p>Merlin had not thought this through, had not thought through the fact that Mordred would be seeing someone die for the first time since Cerdan, and…well. That wasn’t a good thing.</p><p>              “Get him out of here,” Gaius murmured in his ear. “He needs a hot drink and a warm blanket.”</p><p>Merlin wrapped his arms around himself, trying to shake the chill of watching a good man die, but nodded; he gently coaxed Mordred back to the castle, and sat him down in Gaius’ chambers.</p><p>              “He died,” Mordred said, numb. “Sire Owain just…died.”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin breathed. “He’s <em>dead</em>.”</p><p>Dead, gone, deceased…Sire Owain was gone from the world of the living, and he wasn’t going to come back, and Merlin had just stood by and watched and let it happen.</p><p>The kettle started to whistle, so Merlin got up and quietly poured out the boiling water into a mug for Mordred then prepared the herbs needed for tea.</p><p>              “Why did the Black Knight kill him?” Mordred asked when Merlin handed him the cup. He wasn’t looking up at Merlin, just staring at a patch of wood on the dining table.</p><p>              “I don’t know,” Merlin said, raw; honest. “I don’t know why he killed him.”</p><p>              “I think I do.” Gaius appeared in the doorway, his mouth a grim line. “We need to go to the crypt.”</p><p>Merlin let his face fall forward, flopping onto the table. “Yay,” he said sarcastically. “The <em>crypt</em>.” He sighed, propping his head up by his elbow. “What do you think we’ll find there?”</p><p>              “It’s not what I think we will find, it’s what I’m hoping we don’t.” With that, Gaius dropped his bag of medical supplies on the table and moved to leave again. “Are you coming?”</p><p>              “Because that’s not cryptic at all,” Merlin muttered, then focused on Mordred, who was frozen with his mug halfway to his mouth and a woollen blanket draped over his shoulders. “Do you want me to stay? I can stay if you want.”</p><p>Mordred bit his lip but shook his head, gently setting his chamomile tea down on the table before getting to his feet and pulling the blanket tighter when it started to slip. “I want to come.”</p><p>              “It’s a crypt,” Merlin said, “so...not very nice.”</p><p>              “I’m coming,” Mordred said, and walked purposefully towards Gaius, until the two of them looked expectantly to Merlin.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin muttered a spell and the torch lit up in flames, and Mordred looked at it with interest.</p><p>              “Can you teach me?”</p><p>              “Don’t you want to be taught by the druids? Like, people who actually know what they’re doing?”</p><p>Mordred shook his head. “We focus on healing magic, so I’m not going to learn spells like that until I’m fifteen.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “Well, the incantation’s not difficult.” He said it again, more clearly this time, and the torch flared brighter.</p><p>Mordred repeated it, but nothing happened, and the two of them frowned.</p><p>Gaius, however, said, “Perhaps we shouldn’t go against the wishes of Mordred’s people?”</p><p>              “I didn’t think of that.” Merlin turned to Mordred. “Sorry.”</p><p>              “Now, shall we continue onwards?”</p><p>Merlin nodded, and a moment later Mordred did too, if slightly more hesitant.</p><p>They found the broken tomb quickly, because…well. The only tomb with a massive hole in it was kind of obvious, and Gaius seemed to know where he was going.</p><p>              “Bring your torch over here.”</p><p>Doing as he was told, Merlin moved closer, the torch in his hand lighting the way. As they went further into the sea of tombs, Mordred clutched Merlin’s arm tighter and tighter until Merlin was sure he was going to have a bruise in the morning.</p><p>              “We’re breaking into someone’s grave?”</p><p>Gaius stopped beside the tomb, and it was only <em>then</em> that Merlin saw the gaping crack down the middle. There was a terrible smell in the air, and small pieces of rubble were scattered on the sides, which meant—</p><p>              “I think someone’s already broken out,” said Gaius.</p><p>              “Out?” Mordred repeated. His pale eyes gleamed almost white in the glow of the torch. “What do you mean, <em>out</em>?” His voice trembled, and he jumped when a piece of stone clattered in the distance.</p><p>              “I mean,” Gaius said, “that we’re in big trouble.”</p><p>With those words, he strode off again, leaving Merlin and Mordred to stare after him for a moment before hurrying to catch up.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After the terrible news about the Black Knight’s status as a wraith, Mordred refused to attend Sir Pellinor’s fight the next day. He said that it was pointless to watch a fight when one of the fighters couldn’t die, because you knew exactly what was going to happen.</p><p>Merlin agreed with him, but wanted to see the fight anyway in case something happened; after a talk with Gaius about not leaving a ten-year-old alone just after they’d seen a man killed, though, he reluctantly stayed in Gaius’ chambers with the young druid.</p><p>              “You really like cutting herbs,” Merlin thought aloud as he watched Mordred slowly work his way through the pile Gaius had left out for his potions.</p><p>Mordred nodded. “Cerdan liked cutting herbs.”</p><p>              “Oh.” Merlin returned to the little bundle of twigs he was trying to enchant to walk across the table.</p><p>After a moment of silence, Mordred abruptly asked, “How old are you?”</p><p>              “What?”</p><p>              “I heard Gwen telling Morgana that you were mature for your youth, but you’re older than me, and I don’t know how old you are.”</p><p>              “I’m sixteen,” Merlin said. “So only six years older. Though I'm turning seventeen in a couple of weeks.”</p><p>Two weeks and five days, to be exact. Not that Merlin was.</p><p>              “<em>Only</em>?” Mordred scrunched his face up. “That’s ancient.”</p><p>Merlin huffed a laugh, and shook his head. “Gwen and Morgana are both <em>adults</em>. Did you know that Morgana’s turning twenty-three in a few months?”</p><p>              “Twenty-three?” Mordred repeated, his face slackening as his eyes widened with disbelief. “That’s so, so old.”</p><p>              “It is,” Merlin agreed.</p><p>              “Twenty-three is, like, halfway to <em>death</em>.”</p><p>Wincing, Merlin asked, “How old do you think Gaius is?”</p><p>Mordred paused, wracking his brain. “One hundred?”</p><p>              “He’s in his seventies,” Merlin said, enjoying the dumbstruck look on Mordred’s face.</p><p>              “But he’s so <em>old.”</em></p><p>              “He’s incredibly old,” Merlin agreed.</p><p>There was another pause, and then Mordred asked, “What are you doing?”</p><p>              “I’m enchanting this,” Merlin answered, holding up the twigs in question.</p><p>Mordred moved away from his chopping board, leaning across the table to get a better look at the spell book Merlin was reading from. “How?”</p><p>              “Well, I want it to walk,” Merlin said, “but my spell’s not working.”</p><p>              “What’s the incantation?”</p><p>Merlin showed Mordred the page, and Mordred read it aloud.</p><p>              “I think you’re saying that bit wrong,” Merlin said, frowning.</p><p>              “No,” Mordred said. “I think that’s the right pronunciation. You need to length the ‘o’ sound after the n.”</p><p>              “Huh.”</p><p>Merlin tried the spell again, with the right pronunciation this time; sure enough, the bundle of twigs propped itself up and strutted across the table on shaky legs before collapsing and shrivelling up into a pile of ash.</p><p>              “Thanks, Mordred. It would have taken me hours to figure that out if you hadn’t stepped in.”</p><p>His cheeks flushing a deep red, Mordred stuttered out “no problem” before practically running back to his chopping board. He started chopping herbs again, his gaze pinned to the herbs as he determinedly didn’t look at Merlin.</p><p>              “You should try doing it,” Merlin suggested.</p><p>Mordred quickly shook his head. “I <em>can’t</em>.”</p><p>              “Why not?” Merlin asked, curious.</p><p>              “You’re—Emrys. Sorry, <em>Embers</em>. But whatever I call you, you’re the—the greatest and most powerful sorcerer to ever live. I can’t do magic with you there, it’s embarrassing. Just like how I shouldn’t have corrected you.”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “But I would never have gotten that spell without your correction.”</p><p>              “That’s not the point,” Mordred said. The flush was spreading to his ears, Merlin noticed. “I’m just a druid and you’re…you’re Emrys.”</p><p>              “I don’t really know what that means, and I don’t see why I should change because of it,” Merlin said.</p><p>Mordred shook his head again. “I’ve been clinging on to you, and draining your magic, and putting you in danger. That’s not right.”</p><p>Merlin frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s suddenly brought this on? I like being your friend, and I don’t mind you following me around while I work.”</p><p>              “I…I had a nightmare last night.”</p><p><em>Oh</em>. “I’m so sorry, Mordred,” Merlin said. “You should have woken me.”</p><p>              “There was a dragon” –Merlin froze– “and he was telling me that I should go because I’m putting you and Arthur in danger.”</p><p><em>How </em>dare <em>he?</em></p><p>              “That,” Merlin said crisply, already getting to his feet, “is a dragon who has decided that you’re evil or something. He told me that I should let Uther have you.”</p><p>By the time he’d finished talking, Mordred had gone from bright red to lily white.</p><p>His mouth opened, and closed, and finally asked, “The Great Dragon has decided I’m evil?”</p><p>              “<em>I </em>think he’s being ridiculous,” Merlin assured the ten-year-old child who couldn’t bear to watch a man die, let alone actually kill one himself. “He’s told me rubbish before, and I would never think that you’re evil.”</p><p>Mordred bit his lip, hand clutched tightly on the handle of his knife. He didn’t meet Merlin’s gaze. “You don’t?” The question was barely a whisper, and Merlin had to strain his ears to hear him.</p><p>              “Of course I don’t,” Merlin said. “An evil person wouldn’t make such a mess in my bedroom.”</p><p>Mordred choked on a laugh, which quickly turned into a coughing fit.</p><p>              “You also wouldn’t be able to choke on your own spit, if you were evil.”</p><p>              “<em>Embers</em>.” Mordred batted at Merlin’s arm when Merlin patted it reassuringly.</p><p>              “I’ll talk to the dragon, and try to get him to stop.”</p><p>Mordred’s eyes widened. “You’d do that? For me?”</p><p>              “Of course,” Merlin said. “You’re my friend.”</p><p>Mordred smiled at that, and Merlin grinned at him in return.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>            </p><p>              “Arthur challenged the Black Knight!” Gaius bustled in with a stormy face. “That foolish boy.”</p><p>Merlin froze as the words clanged through him, reverberating in the very marrow of his bones. “Arthur did <em>what</em>?”</p><p>              “He challenged Tristan du Bois, to a fight to the death.”</p><p>              “Idiot! He’s going to die.”</p><p>Mordred instinctively moved closer to Merlin, reaching for his arm. “He can’t kill it.”</p><p>              “No mortal sword can kill it,” Merlin said, matching the phrasing of the book Gaius had shown them. “What if I try? With mortal magic?”</p><p>              “No, Merlin, it’s too dangerous,” Gaius said. “You could be caught.”</p><p>              “We don’t have a choice,” Merlin said. “If Arthur fights that thing then he’ll die.”</p><p>Mordred nodded emphatically. “He’s an idiot.”</p><p>              “I see Merlin’s been passing his views on to you,” Gaius murmured, sounding tired, and before Merlin could respond to <em>that</em>, the physician added, “I must speak with Uther, convince him to see reason.”</p><p>He left, his steps quick as he hurried from the room.</p><p>              “I’ll try with my magic,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “What if that doesn’t work?” Mordred asked, quiet.</p><p>Merlin let out a deep sigh. “Then…I’ll try to convince Arthur to pull out.”</p><p>              “And <em>when </em>that doesn’t work?”</p><p>              “I don’t know, Mordred,” Merlin said wearily. “Arthur won’t listen to me, so I’m just going to have to hope that my magic does something. Because I haven’t got anything else to give.”</p><p>              “Oh.”</p><p>              “You stay here,” Merlin told Mordred. “Stay safe, okay?”</p><p>Mordred nodded.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, Merlin’s magic didn’t work on the Black Knight. Unfortunately, Arthur had had the Knight’s Code drilled into him since he was born.</p><p>Fortunately, Geoffrey of Monmouth knew half the books in his library by heart and was able to find something that help.</p><p>Unfortunately, that ‘something’ involved talking to the dragon. The one who Merlin was currently furious with.</p><p>Trying to stall for time with Gwen didn’t work very well, and when Merlin emerged in the dragon’s cave in with an exceptional blade clutched in his grip.</p><p>              “I need you to save Arthur!” he shouted because—well.</p><p>He wanted to berate the dragon for giving Mordred nightmares that had made him pale and small and scared, but that needed to wait until after he’d gotten what he needed.</p><p>The sword floated out of the cloth and moved to hover in front of the dragon’s snout. Was it a snout? Did dragons have snouts?</p><p>              “What is it <em>this</em> time, young warlock?”</p><p>              “I need you to, uh, breathe on this sword, so Arthur can kill a wraith.”</p><p>The dragon recoiled, his eyes flashing dangerously and his nostrils flaring. “You wish for a sword forged in a dragon’s breath?”</p><p>              “Yes, I do.”</p><p>              “What is it that this wraith wants?”</p><p>Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know, Gaius said he wants revenge on Uther.”</p><p>              “Then Uther shall die.” The dragon said it like it was simple.</p><p>              “But Arthur’s going to die first,” Merlin said, “and he can’t die. I need you to save him.”</p><p>              “It is your job to save him, not mine.”</p><p>Merlin shook his head. “No, because I can’t do this without you. If Arthur fights the wraith and dies, then Camelot will have no heir, and I won’t have a job.”</p><p>The dragon hmm-ed. “A weapon forged with my assistance will have great power.”</p><p>              “I know,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “You do <em>not </em>know,” the dragon growled. “You can only guess. You have not seen what I have seen; if you had, perhaps you would not ask this of me.”</p><p>Merlin swallowed. “What do you mean?”</p><p>              “This sword will be powerful – and it will give its wielder great power. You must ensure that Arthur, and Arthur alone, is allowed to wield this sword.”</p><p>              “I understand.”</p><p>The dragon shook his head. “You must do more than understand. You must promise.”</p><p>Well, that wasn’t as hard as Merlin had worried it might be. “I promise,” he said, simple, and then stepped back as the dragon inhaled.</p><p>The fire wasn’t anything like Merlin had expected, and the sword seemed to swallow it up until new gold glinted on the blade with an inscription Merlin could somehow read even though he had never learnt the language.</p><p>              “Thank you,” Merlin said as he took the sword from the air.</p><p>              “Heed my words,” the dragon said. “The sword was forged for Arthur, and him alone.”</p><p>Merlin nodded, before asking, “Why do you send Mordred nightmares?”</p><p>A sudden roar tore its way from the dragon’s throat, and the cave shook. “You kept the druid boy, against my wishes!”</p><p>              “I did,” Merlin said, meeting the dragon’s gaze evenly as his brain was telling him to run. “He’s not evil, no matter what you say.”</p><p>The dragon growled at him, baring his teeth. “He will be Arthur’s doom.”</p><p>              “He’s a kid! He’s-he’s messy, and he likes being read fairy tales, and thinks that I’m about thirty, and has a fashion sense that makes me want to pour acid in my eyes. Mordred’s not <em>evil</em>, you’re being ridiculous.”</p><p>              “He will kill your king, and you will be sorry.”</p><p>Merlin pulled a face at the dragon before striding out as another roar rang through the cave behind him.</p><p>              “Merlin!”</p><p>He ignored the dragon.</p><p> </p><p>When Merlin returned to Gaius’ chambers, he was surprised to find Mordred sat outside the closed door. The boy was cross-legged, leaning back against the wall opposite, with something metal flashing in his hands.</p><p>              “What’s going on?” Merlin asked. In that moment, he was glad he’d already left the sword at the armoury because else he’d be getting questions about it.</p><p>Mordred pulled a face. “The King’s talking to Gaius privately. I’m waiting until they’re done.”</p><p>              “Uther’s talking to Gaius?” Merlin asked, sliding down to sit next to Mordred.</p><p>Nodding, Mordred did something that made the silver thing flash in his hands again and—</p><p><em>Oh my gods that’s a knife</em>.</p><p>              “Mordred,” Merlin asked, trying to sound casual and failing, “why are you playing with a knife?”</p><p>Mordred shrugged like knives were something <em>fun</em> and <em>normal</em> to play with. “I was holding it when Uther arrived, and Gaius sent me out pretty quickly. It’s not like I have anything else to do, and they’ve been talking for <em>ages</em>.”</p><p>              “Could you please put down the knife?” Merlin asked in what he felt was a calm and reasonable tone.</p><p>Mordred gave him a look that said his tone was neither calm nor reasonable, but instead high-pitched and too fast like he feared, but handed the knife over to Merlin anyway.</p><p>              “Thank you.” Merlin carefully took the kitchen knife and set it down next to him, on the other side to Mordred. “Knives can be dangerous.”</p><p>              “I know,” Mordred said.</p><p>Merlin did not think that he knew.</p><p>              “This one’s not even sharp on both sides.”</p><p>Merlin’s theory was only added to by the derisive way in which Mordred said that; he made it sound like any knife that wasn’t sharp on both sides had failed him in some deep, fundamental way.</p><p>Maybe this whole ‘looking after a ten-year-old’ thing was going to be harder than he thought – and not just because Uther wanted to kill him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin dressed Uther in his armour, and failed to persuade the King not to use the sword the dragon had made, and when he’d left, Mordred shuffled out from behind Merlin, where he’d been trying to hide from the king, and raised an eyebrow in a startling impression of Gaius.</p><p>              “‘There’s a bond between us’?” he repeated, an incredulous tone to his voice.</p><p>Merlin blushed. “Well, there is.”</p><p>              “You told the King that there’s a bond between you and his son?” Mordred looked utterly horrified. “That’s basically saying you’re in love in with him!”</p><p>Merlin <em>choked</em>. “It is <em>not</em>.”</p><p>              “It is! You just told Uther Pendragon that you’re fucking his son!” Mordred pulled an utterly disgusted face. “You’re being gross.”</p><p>Merlin paused. “Where did you learn that word?”</p><p>              “What word?”</p><p>              “‘Fucking’.”</p><p>              “Morgana says it when she and Gwen are gossiping,” Mordred said, blinking.</p><p>              “Mordred,” Merlin said slowly, “what do <em>you </em>think ‘fucking’ means?”</p><p>Mordred’s brow creased. “Kissing.”</p><p>              “It does not mean that. It means—a lot more than that. And you…you don’t tell anyone that I’m fucking anyone, alright? Because I’m not.”</p><p>              “What <em>does </em>‘fucking’ mean?”</p><p>Grimacing, Merlin awkwardly said, “You know. Having sex with someone.”</p><p>Mordred’s ears went pink. “<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>              “So you saying I’m fucking Arthur…”</p><p>              “Nope, nope, nope,” Mordred said, clapping his hands over his ears. “This conversation didn’t happen.”</p><p>Despite being embarrassed before, Merlin couldn’t help but laugh now that Mordred was having a worse time than him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Uther won the fight and killed the wraith, and things were going just great until Merlin told the dragon.</p><p>Which…was understandable, given that Merlin had made him a promise to never let anyone but Arthur touch the sword. And then he’d let <em>Uther </em>touch it.</p><p>
  <em>Uther.</em>
</p><p>              “Next, you’ll be sharing it with that druid boy,” the dragon growled once Merlin had promised to put the sword where no mortal would ever find.</p><p>Merlin scowled, crossing his arms. “Mordred’s not evil.”</p><p>              “Yes he is.”</p><p>              “He thought that fucking meant kissing.”</p><p>The dragon’s mouth twitched, and for a brief second Merlin thought he might <em>laugh</em>, but then the dragon was shaking his head. “That does not prove him to be good.”</p><p>              “It proves he’s innocent,” Merlin said, “and innocent people are good.”</p><p>              “Innocent people,” the dragon growled, “are the ones who are scared to get their hands dirty.”</p><p>              “If he’s scared to get his hands dirty then he can’t kill Arthur,” Merlin pointed out. The dragon didn’t respond for a moment, and pride bloomed in Merlin’s chest. “Face it: Mordred’s a kid.”</p><p>              “An <em>evil</em> child.”</p><p>              “Evil doesn’t form in a vacuum,” Merlin said. “You can’t know the future.”</p><p>              “Neither can you.”</p><p>Merlin shrugged. “Never said I could. But you can’t just go around saying ‘oh, he’s evil, we’ve got to kill him’, and ‘oh, she’s going to squish a spider by accident one day, better throw her on the fire’. That’s what Uther did, and it ended with hundreds of innocent people dead.”</p><p>The dragon roared again, his lip curling. “Do <em>not </em>presume to know the horrors of the Great Purge, young warlock.”</p><p>              “I’m not,” Merlin said resolutely. “I’m just telling you to give Mordred a chance.”</p><p>              “I have done nothing to him yet,” the dragon said.</p><p>Merlin scoffed. “We both know <em>that’s</em> not true.”</p><p>The dragon paused, and then said, “I will not give him nightmares, for a time.”</p><p>              “Thank you,” Merlin said. “I’ll…sort out the sword.”</p><p>              “You had better,” the dragon snapped, baring his fangs, “else you might find me less agreeable next time you come to visit.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mordred leaves (for the time being), and Leon makes his first appearance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              “Are you sure he’s ready to go?” Morgana asked for the fourth time that morning.</p>
<p>Gwen sighed as she tightened the straps on the saddle, checking that all the buckles were done up correctly. “Yes, milady. Mordred needs to see his <em>mother</em> again.”</p>
<p>They were in the middle of the citadel, surrounded by bustling servants and busy knights who would all turn them in in a heartbeat if they knew that Mordred was the druid boy who had escaped them, so Gwen had to use the terms they’d invented for their cover story.</p>
<p>Morgana knew who she was talking about.</p>
<p>              “I know,” Morgana said, more quietly this time, “and I’m sorry for asking so many times, but…”</p>
<p>Gwen gave her mistress and long-term friend a smile. “It’s okay, I understand. I’ve grown attached to him too.”</p>
<p>              “Cheer up,” a voice called, and the two women turned to see Arthur jogging down the steps. “What’s got you so down?”</p>
<p>Her eyes narrowing, all vulnerability falling away, Morgana drawled, “Our actual human emotions.”</p>
<p>              “Okay, so what’s got those ‘actual human emotions’ down?” Arthur did air quotation marks, and Gwen had to look away to hide her laughter.</p>
<p>              “Mordred’s leaving, milord,” she answered after a moment, when it was clear that Morgana was content to just glare at the man she grew up with. “His mother needs him again, so he’s going home, but we were just saying that we were going to miss him.”</p>
<p>              “Mordred’s leaving?” Arthur repeated, eyebrows shooting up.</p>
<p>              “Didn’t you know?” Morgana asked. There was a bite to the question. “What did you <em>think </em>your manservant was doing with these one and a half days off?”</p>
<p>Arthur shrugged. “I wasn’t sure, I figured he was probably going to use the time to lounge around the town. I only gave it to him because my father actually praised him last week, and Merlin’s been bugging me solidly for the last three days.”</p>
<p>              “You didn’t even ask?” Morgana’s voice was as dry as the hot summer sun, and Arthur’s cheeks darkened.</p>
<p>              “Strange as it may seem,” he said, angry that he was embarrassed, “unlike <em>some people</em>, I have better things to do with my time than sit around and learn every detail of my servant’s likely incredibly boring personal life.” He paused, then added, “No offense, Guinevere.”</p>
<p>Gwen blinked. She…hadn’t thought of it like that until he’d said ‘no offense’, but now…well, she was a servant. “None taken, milord,” she murmured automatically.</p>
<p>A loud and very familiar groan came from behind her, and Gwen turned to see Merlin, Mordred tucked against his side, with an exasperated expression on his face.</p>
<p>              “What’s he said now?”</p>
<p>              “Nothing, Merlin,” Gwen answered quickly, but Morgana saw the rare opportunity of someone who was equally fond of calling out Arthur’s attitude and took it.</p>
<p>              “He offended both me and Gwen most heinously,” she said primly, “and the only consolation he gave was ‘no offense’.”</p>
<p>Merlin gasped, loudly and far too dramatically to be genuine. “Arthur! How could you, sire? I cannot <em>believe </em>you would say such a thing to the Lady Morgana and Gwen.”</p>
<p>              “Prat,” Mordred added helpfully from his spot right next to Merlin.</p>
<p>In that moment, it was very clear that the rants Merlin gave Gwen about Arthur’s behaviour were only the start of it; he had to be going on for even longer when he was with Mordred and Gaius.</p>
<p>              “That’s rude,” Arthur said. “He can’t say stuff like that.”</p>
<p>              “They’re both leaving today, you can’t exactly put them in the stocks,” Morgana said with a roll of her eyes.</p>
<p>Arthur crossed his arms. “I can, they can leave tomorrow instead.”</p>
<p>An expression of utter horror and shock fixed itself to Morgana’s face. “You’d deny a grieving mother her son?”</p>
<p>Arthur’s eyes grew very, very wide as he realised his mistake, and it took everything Gwen had not to pity him. “Well—no—that’s not what I meant—”</p>
<p>              “I’ve known you to be cruel, Arthur, but rarely <em>this </em>cruel,” Morgana continued, slowly shaking her head.</p>
<p>              “I have duties to attend to,” Arthur blurted out. “Have a…good one, Mordred,” he added awkwardly before dashing off in the opposite direction to…pretty much anything he would have had to do.</p>
<p>The moment he was gone, peals of laughter echoed around the square as Merlin pretty much collapsed in on himself; Morgana was more reserved, but her grin was wide and delighted, and Gwen’s shoulders shook as she tried to hold her giggles in.</p>
<p>              “That was mean,” she told Morgana earnestly. “Arthur genuinely thought he was dealing with a widow.”</p>
<p>Morgana’s laughter died down a bit, and she patted Gwen’s shoulder. “I know, but I couldn’t resist.”</p>
<p>              “He’s so easy to trick,” Merlin added, and he looked so happy with himself that Gwen couldn’t help her own happiness.</p>
<p>Mordred nodded eagerly, glancing between the three of them. “He’s an idiot.”</p>
<p>Gwen sighed this time, because that was rude of Mordred except—Mordred was leaving. He wasn’t hers to tell that to anymore; he might not ever return. At the realisation, Gwen very quietly said, “Oh.”</p>
<p>Her brow furrowing, Morgana’s gaze cut to her, but Gwen shook it off with a smile.</p>
<p>              “Well, you’d better get going,” she said with cheer that, all of sudden, was false. “Don’t want you to be late!”</p>
<p>Merlin nodded his thanks as she gave him a hand up onto the horse, and then the two of them worked together to pull/push Mordred up in front of him so both of them were seated comfortably.</p>
<p>Once he was up there, Mordred hesitated and held on to Gwen’s hand for a second longer, giving her a slight smile.</p>
<p>              “I’ll miss you,” she told him, soft.</p>
<p>Mordred just nodded.</p>
<p>Morgana stepped up when Gwen moved away, and she almost pulled Mordred back off the horse with the truly fearsome hug she gave him.</p>
<p>              “I wish you could stay,” the Lady said. “I know you can’t, but I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you, and it’s such a shame that you’re leaving.”</p>
<p>              “Milady,” Gwen warned, moving closer to whisper in Morgana’s ear, “I don’t think it’s fair to say that.”</p>
<p>Blinking, Morgana shook her head and stepped back, pasting a smile to her face. “No, no, you’re right. It’s for the best that you return to your family, Mordred.”</p>
<p>              “I’m sure Mordred’s going to miss you both too,” Merlin said, smiling, before: “We need to get going.”</p>
<p>              “Of course, of course,” Gwen said. She let go of the horse’s reins. “Have a good trip, and Merlin?”</p>
<p>              “Yes?”</p>
<p>              “Make sure to be back by tomorrow noon, else Arthur really <em>will </em>put you in the stocks.”</p>
<p>The horse started away, and Merlin’s laughter was the last thing they heard as the two boys rode away in the bright sunlight.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Riding wasn’t Merlin’s forte, because even on hunts he was usually on foot so he’d only done it a couple of times since arriving at Camelot, and a whole day in the saddle was painful. Especially with the space limited by sharing.</p>
<p>But they made time that was probably good (Merlin didn’t really know enough about travelling, but he’d heard Arthur use that phrase before and it sounded professional), and they reached the decided meeting spot on time.</p>
<p>The druids, three of them, were there, and Merlin was nervous as he slid off the horse before helping Mordred down too.</p>
<p>It was odd, because he knew that Mordred thought he was some kind of very powerful sorcerer, but that could just be Mordred misunderstanding something. <em>These </em>druids – all the other druids, even – could laugh in Merlin’s face the moment Mordred brought it up.</p>
<p>He didn’t think they’d do that - both Mordred’s and Gaius’ stories said that the druids were nice - but you never knew.</p>
<p>              “Iseldir!” Mordred exclaimed, bounding away to throw his arms around the middle druid’s waist.</p>
<p>The druid, presumably Iseldir, had a gentle smile and patted Mordred’s back with care. “It is good to have you back at last, little one. And in such good health.” His gaze cut up to Merlin, and a single eyebrow raised. “And with Emrys.”</p>
<p>              “He likes to be called Embers,” Mordred said.</p>
<p>Merlin resisted the urge to wince, because that made him sound weird. “That’s just so people in Camelot don’t hear it and make a connection that gets me charged with magic use.”</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Mordred said. “Right. I forgot that bit.”</p>
<p>              “Well, it is an honour to meet you, Emrys,” Iseldir said, and bowed deeply; the two druids flanking him did too, and Merlin’s entire face <em>burned</em>.</p>
<p>              “No, no! Please don’t—you don’t need to bow to me. Or anything like that. I’m just—I’m Merlin. Not—anything like that.”</p>
<p>              “You are Emrys,” the druid on the right said, looking confused. “You are the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”</p>
<p><em>Oh, gods. </em>Merlin knew he was probably just one giant red blob, melting to the ground in a puddle of embarrassment. “I’m—not yet? I don’t think? I’m still—I’m pretty young. I don’t know what I’m doing or anything. You’re, like, the first druids I’ve met other than Mordred, so—yeah.”</p>
<p>              “We are the first druids you have met?” the druid on the left said, their eyebrows drawing together. “Surely not.”</p>
<p>              “Yeah…”</p>
<p>Iseldir shook his head. “This won’t do. You must join us for dinner; learn the ways of the forest, and our people.”</p>
<p>              “I can’t right now,” Merlin said, feeling even <em>worse</em>. “I have, uh, this job. And if I’m late back…”</p>
<p>              “That is shame,” Iseldir said.</p>
<p>Mordred frowned. “Arthur’s a prat.”</p>
<p>              “Don’t be rude, Mordred,” Iseldir reprimanded.</p>
<p>
  <em>Have I been teaching Mordred bad habits?</em>
</p>
<p>              “But Merlin and Morgana both call Arthur names,” Mordred said.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’ll take that as a yes.</em>
</p>
<p>              “Ah,” Iseldir said. “I see.”</p>
<p>His embarrassment increasing by tenfold, Merlin resisted the urge to sprint back to horse and ride off when Iseldir gave him a disappointed look.</p>
<p>              “Sorry,” he muttered, purposefully staring down at his boots to avoid the gaze of the druids.</p>
<p>There was a pause, and then the druid on the left said, “You are younger and less experienced than we expected.”</p>
<p>              “Come back in a few years?” Merlin suggested.</p>
<p>Mordred snorted at it, covering his mouth with his hand, and Iseldir turned to raise an eyebrow at the young boy.</p>
<p>A moment later, he looked to Merlin again. “If you wish for our help, send word and we will meet with you to answer any questions you might have.”</p>
<p>              “And I’ll see you in a few months, too,” Mordred added.</p>
<p>Merlin blinked. “You…will?”</p>
<p>              “Of course,” Mordred said, his brow creasing. “I’m going to stay with you again.”</p>
<p>              “You are?” Merlin had thought that this was the last time he was going to see Mordred. All of a sudden, relief - pure relief and delight - flooded through him, and he couldn't help his grin. “I didn’t…”</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Mordred said, his face falling. “If you don’t want me to put you in danger again—”</p>
<p>              “You didn’t put me in danger,” Merlin scoffed automatically, “Uther’s laws did that. I’d love for you to stay in Camelot again, I just didn’t think you would want to, now we’ve returned you to your people.”</p>
<p>Iseldir bobbed his head in a gesture that looked a little too like a bow for Merlin’s liking. “And we thank you for bringing Mordred home. If he wishes to return to Camelot, then that is up to him.”</p>
<p>              “Cool,” Merlin said. “I know Gwen and Morgana would like to see you again, and Gaius appreciated the help with the herbs and shit.”</p>
<p>The druid on the right’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin, disapproving line, and it took Merlin a moment to realise it was probably because he’d sworn. None of them said anything, and Merlin wasn’t sure why. He was only sixteen (nearly a <em>terrifying</em> seventeen), and as much as he didn’t like being told off, he was used to it.</p>
<p>              “I need to leave soon,” Merlin continued, glancing up at the darkening sky. “Need to get some of the journey done before night falls.”</p>
<p>Nodding his understanding, Iseldir said, “Then we wish you a safe return, and hope to welcome you to our camp in the future. The Autumn Equinox approaches, would you be willing to attend our celebrations?”</p>
<p>              “I…didn’t know that that was something people celebrated.” Merlin winced at the shock on the faces of all four druids. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>              “You don’t know about the equinox celebrations?” Mordred breathed, his eyes wide and horrified. “You <em>have </em>to join in, now.”</p>
<p>              “Mordred,” Iseldir said disapprovingly, “Emrys doesn’t have to do anything.”</p>
<p>              “No, no, it’s fine,” Merlin quickly said, and when Iseldir raised an eyebrow he added, “I’d…like to attend.”</p>
<p><em>Because fuck thinking things through, right?</em> part of his brain said mockingly, rolling metaphorical eyes at him. <em>It’s not like you have a job and a fussy employer</em>.</p>
<p>              “We would be honoured to have you,” the druid on the right said, sweeping into something that was most <em>definitely </em>a bow.</p>
<p>Merlin flushed even darked. “That’s not—I don’t—”</p>
<p>              “As a newcomer,” Iseldir added gently. “We would be delighted to show you how the ceremony works, and invite you to the partying that takes place afterwards. No expectations.”</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “That’s—thank you.”</p>
<p>              “Do you pinky promise?” Mordred asked, stepping closer and tilting his head back to narrow his eyes at Merlin.</p>
<p>              “Gwen should never have introduced that to you.”</p>
<p>A mischievous grin appeared on Mordred’s face. “Yeah, but you can’t break it or I get to cut your pinky off.”</p>
<p>The druids on the left and right choked, and Iseldir’s face contorted into a grimace between them.</p>
<p>              “<em>Or</em>,” Merlin said, crouching down so he was level with Mordred, “you could try <em>not</em> to make Camelot look like it’s full of savages.”</p>
<p>Mordred giggled, the clear, high sound echoing around the clearing. “But it <em>is</em>.”</p>
<p>              “I’m telling Morgana you said she was a savage.”</p>
<p>              “No!” Mordred paled, and he was already pale so ended up with skin that was almost snow white. “I didn’t say that!”</p>
<p>Merlin quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”</p>
<p>              “Well…I <em>did</em>,” Mordred admitted, “but you can’t tell <em>Morgana</em> that.”</p>
<p>              “I won’t tell her, on one condition,” Merlin said, feeling the beginnings of a smile curl at his mouth.</p>
<p>Mordred frowned. “What condition?”</p>
<p>              “You come back to Camelot with an idea for a prank on Arthur,” Merlin said, grinning.</p>
<p>Laughing again, Mordred threw his arms around Merlin, unbalancing him so he felt back onto his butt and the wet leaves.</p>
<p>              “I’ll come up with a great one.” Mordred’s voice was muffled by Merlin’s shirt.</p>
<p>              “I’m sure you will,” Merlin whispered back. “I’ll see you in a few months.”</p>
<p>Mordred pulled back again, a grin splitting his face open even as his eyes shone. “See you in a few months, Embers.”</p>
<p>And with that, the druids left.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The ride back to Camelot was odd for Merlin, because the forest seemed just a little dimmer without Mordred’s bright magic.</p>
<p>In the last three weeks, he’d gotten used to the flow between their magic and losing it was like getting a bit of dirt on the side of his nose; not obvious and all-consuming, but just a little niggle at the edge of his conscience.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin arrived in the lower town with about half an hour before he would be late, so he made sure to dismount from the horse so he wouldn’t be like the pompous nobles who had their horses canter down the middle of the street and expected everyone to leap out of their way.</p>
<p>The crowd bustled around him, a loud chatter that blocked out any actual words, and the smell of dung lingered in the air. Distantly, Merlin thought that he could hear someone calling his name, but he dismissed it; he’d had the experience before of talking to someone he thought was addressing him, only to realise they weren’t, and it was so embarrassing.</p>
<p>The sound of his name persisted, though, until Merlin eventually turned around to try and see where it was coming from.</p>
<p>It took a moment to see the source, but then Merlin’s eyes caught on Gwen expertly weaving her way through the crowd.</p>
<p>              “You’re back,” she said once she’d reached him, a warm smile on her face.</p>
<p>              “I’ve only been gone a day.” Merlin let out an awkward laugh. “I’m guessing nothing’s happened in that time?”</p>
<p>Gwen laughed too, and looked down at the basket of groceries hanging from her hands. “No, no. Like you said, you’ve only been gone a day.”</p>
<p>              “Knowing Camelot, anything could have happened,” Merlin said. “I’ve only been here for six months, and more’s happened in that time than in sixteen years in Ealdor.”</p>
<p>When Gwen looked at him again, she had to squint against the bright sun, then raised her free hand to cover her eyes. “I guess Ealdor is much smaller, so there’s probably a, you know, similar ‘things happening’ to ‘people’ ratio.”</p>
<p>              “Huh,” Merlin said. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”</p>
<p>He gestured up the street and Gwen nodded. They started towards the castle at a slow, winding pace, making their way through the crowds of people, and – luckily – away from the pig pens that filled the air with the smell of dung.</p>
<p>              “How was your journey?” Gwen asked. “Given you’re here on time, I’m assuming there wasn’t any trouble.”</p>
<p>Merlin shook his head. “No, it was fine. Just there and back again.”</p>
<p>              “I’m glad,” Gwen said, smiling.</p>
<p>And, because he now realised what she’d really been asking, Merlin added, “Mordred’s fine, by the way. Seemed happy to be back.”</p>
<p>              “That’s good,” Gwen said, then: “I’m glad he made it home, and I’m glad that we helped him.” She opened her mouth, as if to say something more, then closed it with a small shake of her head.</p>
<p>Merlin was pretty sure he knew what she had been going to say. “That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to miss him.”</p>
<p>Gwen nodded even as she sighed. “I know only knew Mordred for a month and—that’s his <em>home</em>. And I am happy he’s back, I truly am.”</p>
<p>              “Don’t feel bad,” Merlin said. “Think about it this way: if you weren’t missing him, that would be worse. Because it would mean you hadn’t…I don’t know, connected, I guess?”</p>
<p>              “I just…I don’t want Mordred to think he owes us anything, and I don’t want to be thinking that he should.” Gwen bit her lip, glancing up at Merlin. “Does that make sense?”</p>
<p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said, nodding. “It does. But Mordred would probably be more upset if you <em>weren’t</em> missing him.”</p>
<p>              “That’s true,” Gwen said, straightening. “I didn’t think of it like that. But…that makes more sense.” Her face crinkled into a smile, and she bobbed into a sort-of-curtsey. “Thank you, Merlin. That’s actually…really helping.”</p>
<p>Merlin grinned, wide and toothy. “My pleasure.”</p>
<p>Gwen paused and then glanced upwards before asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be attending to the Prince at noon?”</p>
<p>Frowning Merlin opened his mouth—</p>
<p>Just in time for the bells to ring midday.</p>
<p>              “Shit!” he swore, freezing for just a second before turning to fumble with the saddle of his horse. “Shit, shit, shit.”</p>
<p>              “I can sort the horse out for you,” Gwen assured him, laying a hand over his on the buckles of the saddle. “Just…go.”</p>
<p>              “Thank you, Gwen,” Merlin breathed, his eyes wide. He checked himself over, grimaced at the mud splattered up his trousers, then dashed off across the courtyard, crashing into at last half a dozen people on the way.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>             </p>
<p>              “No problem,” Gwen said to no one once Merlin had gone. She gazed after him for a few minutes, before shaking herself and turning to the horse to pet its face. “Good boy,” she murmured to it.</p>
<p>              “Since when have you talked to horses?” a familiar voice asked, and delight burst in Gwen’s chest before she whirled to find Sir Leon. “You know, I think that’s sign of madness.”</p>
<p>There was a gently teasing edge to his voice, and in that moment, Gwen was transported a decade and a half into the past, when the three of them – her, Leon, and Elyan – had spent their days playing make-believe.</p>
<p>              “Says the man who named <em>his</em> horse Maximillian Versooth the Twenty Ninth, Devourer of the Forest of Yartle,” Gwen said, equally teasing.</p>
<p>Leon’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he self-consciously readjusted his cloak. “That was a long time ago.” He was putting on his dignified voice, and when they were children Gwen and Elyan would have mocked him mercilessly for it.</p>
<p>But—they weren’t children anymore. Leon was a Knight of Camelot now, a well-respected one, trusted by the King. And Gwen was still just a servant. Maybe when Arthur was king, things would be different. But under Uther they couldn’t be friends like they used to; just acquaintances.</p>
<p>              “Maybe so,” she said, turning back to the horse to continue undoing the saddle, “but you’ve also named your current horse.”</p>
<p>She chanced a look, just out of the corner of her eye, back at Leon, and his flush was deepening.</p>
<p>              “I—how do you know about that?”</p>
<p>A mischievous smile tried to form on Gwen’s face, but she squashed it into a polite one instead. “A friend of mine is often put to work mucking out the stables.”</p>
<p>Leon cleared his throat. “Your friend <em>heard </em>me?”</p>
<p>              “Talking to Sunpetal?” Gwen did her very best not to laugh at the name, because that would be mean. “Yes, he did.”</p>
<p>              “That’s…”</p>
<p>              “Embarrassing?” Gwen supplied when Leon just trailed off, grinning up at him like they were ten again. “I need to tell Elyan, he’s going to—”</p>
<p>The words were automatic in Gwen’s interactions with Leon, perhaps the only person with who that was the case, and she froze the moment she realised what she was saying.</p>
<p>She…didn’t talk about Elyan, not since he’d left. It wasn’t a rule, and Gwen had mentioned him once or twice in the year and a bit since he’d gone, but it was easier for her to generally not discuss him.</p>
<p>Perhaps this was another reason why she and Leon had grown apart: she didn’t want the reminders of her missing brother.</p>
<p>“That’s actually why I’m here, Gwen—I mean, Guinevere,” Leon said, shifting awkwardly. Gwen didn’t recognise that expression on his face.</p>
<p>She used to know all his expressions.</p>
<p>              “About Elyan?” The question came out weaker than she’d intended, and her voice wobbled.</p>
<p>              “Yes,” Leon said, and—</p>
<p>—Gwen had <em>not </em>been expecting that answer.</p>
<p>              “I received a letter from him a week ago,” Leon continued. His face was the picture of concern. “He said that he’d doing fine. He travelled through Gawant, then Tír-Mòr, and he’s now in—”</p>
<p>              “Sir Leon,” Gwen said quietly but not without force.</p>
<p>Leon stopped talking immediately.</p>
<p>              “My brother specifically asked that I stopped being so over-bearing before he left. If he sent that letter to you, then he doesn't want me to know where he is.”</p>
<p>Leon nodded but said, “He requested I not inform you of his letter.”</p>
<p>              “Then why are you?”</p>
<p>              “You are distressed for your brother,” Leon said. “I know you, Guinevere, and I know that Elyan is trying to hurt you right now. That’s not fair to you, so I’m trying to assure you that he’s safe.”</p>
<p>Gwen sighed. “Thank you for your concern, Sir Leon.”</p>
<p>              “I only hope that he’ll soon realise the reasons for his actions, and return home.”</p>
<p>Sighing again, deeper and wearier this time, Gwen murmured, “Me too.”</p>
<p>              “I shall write to him, asking for him to assure you of his health,” Leon declared, straightening and turning like he was about to go and do it right then.</p>
<p>              “Wait—” Gwen caught his arm, stopping Leon in his tracks. Once she realised what she’d done, she immediately let go and curtsied. “My apologies, Sir Knight. That was inappropriate of me.”</p>
<p>Leon shook his head. “Don’t worry, Gwen.”</p>
<p>              “I…you shouldn’t tell Elyan that,” Gwen said, wincing. “He’ll realise that you’ve told me about his original letter, and that’ll be worse.”</p>
<p>              “I don’t think so.” Leon frowned. He opened his mouth, then closed it with a shake of his head; a moment later, his face cleared and he gave Gwen a polite smile. “If you don’t wish me to tell him, then I shan’t.”</p>
<p>Relief fluttering through her, Gwen curtsied again. “Thank you, Sir Leon.”</p>
<p>              “He is your brother,” Leon said, “and only my…” He trailed off, unsure of what to call Elyan; like with Gwen, their friendship was improper now Leon was a knight. After a moment, Leon hadn’t been able to think of another term so decided to go with, “Friend.”</p>
<p><em>If only Elyan saw himself as my brother, </em>Gwen thought, perhaps more sullenly than necessary.</p>
<p>              “I hope his letter was reassuring, and that you enjoy being back in contact with him,” Gwen said instead. She attempted a smile, but it came out a little to tight to be genuine; from Leon’s wince, he’d noticed.</p>
<p>              “Elyan will come around,” he said gently. “I promise you that.”</p>
<p>Politeness falling into something a lot more like pity, Gwen said, “I’m sure he will.”</p>
<p>With that, she checked the time and added, “My apologies, Sir Leon, but I’ve got to attend to Lady Morgana and I’ve still got to brush down this horse before that.”</p>
<p>              “I can do that for you,” Leon offered, the words coming out quick and stumbling.</p>
<p>Gwen blinked. “Excuse me?”</p>
<p>              “Brush down this horse,” Leon said, and now his cheeks were stained pink again. “Not—not attend to Lady Morgana. Obviously. But—I know Merlin’s cousin left yesterday, and you two were close.”</p>
<p>              “You know that?” Gwen asked, confused. She and Leon were…They knew each other, and most people weren’t aware of that, but they hadn’t known much about each other’s lives since they were young.</p>
<p>Leon nodded. “I saw you together, and you were smiling.”</p>
<p>              “Oh.” Gwen wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that.</p>
<p>              “<em>Anyway</em>, I can get this horse back to its stable.”</p>
<p>Leon moved closer and held out his hand for the reins; once Gwen had processed his request, she passed the reins to him.</p>
<p>              “Have a nice day,” Leon called as he led the horse away, leaving Gwen stood in the courtyard looking utterly bewildered.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>             </p>
<p>              “How was he?” Morgana asked the second Merlin stepped into her chambers.</p>
<p>Merlin closed the door behind himself, then answered, “Good. We got there safely.”</p>
<p>              “Did he seem happy?” Morgana asked, her hands twisting together as she looked at Merlin with wide eyes. “To return to the druids, I mean.”</p>
<p>              “He did,” Merlin said, gentle. “He said he’s going to miss us, but the druids are his people.”</p>
<p>Morgana sighed, tracing her finger along the carving on the back of one of her dining chairs. “I know that. But…is it so bad to wish that he didn’t have to go?”</p>
<p>              “Of course not,” Merlin quickly assured her. He didn’t want Morgana to feel bad about missing Mordred. “We all miss him.”</p>
<p>              “Yes,” Morgana said in a quieter voice than Merlin had ever heard her use. “I do miss him already.”</p>
<p>Merlin gave her a lopsided smile. “At least he’s safe now.”</p>
<p>              “Yes.”</p>
<p>There was a pause, and Merlin realised that Morgana wasn’t looking at him, instead occupied by tracing a line of the chair. Feeling like she might not want him there, Merlin said, “Well, I should probably get back to Arthur before he shouts at me. I was on time, mostly, in getting back, and he didn’t notice that I was a few minutes late but I don’t want to push my lock. You know what he’s like.”</p>
<p>Merlin slowly backed towards the door as he spoke, and by the time he’d finished, he had his hand on the door knob.</p>
<p>              “Merlin?” Morgana said just as he opened it.</p>
<p>              “Yeah?”</p>
<p>Morgana gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you for risking so much for Mordred. There was a lot more at stake for you than the rest of us.”</p>
<p>              “Just doing what I thought was right,” Merlin said with a shrug.</p>
<p>              “Well, I admire you for it,” Morgana told him.</p>
<p>Merlin hesitated, unsure what Morgana was getting at. “I…thank you?”</p>
<p>Morgana inclined her head, then turned away, moving to sit in her window seat and picking up a book; a clear dismissal.</p>
<p>Shutting the door behind him softly, Merlin hurried down the steps from Morgana’s room, intent on getting to Arthur’s chambers in time to prepare him for the council meeting.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so, <em>here's</em> a question for the merlin writers: how did arthur get in contact with the druids to meet them?<br/>it's made pretty clear that uther doesn't know where they are, and merlin doesn't either in 2x03, so unless arthur just sent some random sentry wandering in the woods with a sign saying 'trust me! i won't kill you, druids!'...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The story progresses, to the plot of the next episode. Gwen is confused, Hunith is awesome, Merlin is embarrassed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there's mentioned mercelot (merlin x lancelot) in this chapter, but it's not, like, a thing. just in case anyone's wondering. they aren't going to be together in this story, nor are they going to have romantic moments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gwen had found that Morgana’s bottle of sleeping draught was empty, and she’d finished with the washing, so decided to head straight to Gaius for another potion.</p><p>When she entered, though, words on the tip of her tongue, there was woman, perhaps thirty or forty, sat at Gaius’ workbench.</p><p>              “Oh!” Gwen stopped in her tracks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise Gaius was with a patient—”</p><p>              “He’s not,” the woman quickly said. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not a patient.”</p><p>When the woman didn’t offer any further explanation, Gwen said, “The black eye suggests something different.”</p><p>The woman blinked, then raised a hand to brush against the very edge of the purple bruise that surrounded her left eye like an eyepatch. “Oh, I forgot about. It’s been a few days since I got it, it mostly just looks bad at this point.”</p><p>              “If you don’t mind me asking,” Gwen said, “but if you’re not a patient, then why <em>are </em>you here?”</p><p>              “I’m visiting my son,” the woman said. A smile, small and private, grew on her face. “He’s staying with Gaius.”</p><p>Gwen blinked. “You’re Merlin’s mother?”</p><p>              “I am.” The woman seemed to brighten at the mention of Merlin. “You know him?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Gwen said, staring at the woman who had raised her friend. “I—pretty well, I think. He’s my friend.”</p><p>Merlin’s mother gave Gwen a smile, getting to her feet; Gwen held out her hand to shake, but Merlin’s mother instead wrapped her in a hug.</p><p>              “I’m Hunith.”</p><p>Once the hug had ended, and Gwen was standing there a little awkwardly, she introduced herself too. “I’m Guinevere, Gwen for short.”</p><p>              “It’s lovely to meet you, Gwen,” Hunith said, and she sounded like she genuinely thought that was the case.</p><p>Gwen decided she liked Merlin’s mother.</p><p>              “Lovely to meet you too, Hunith,” Gwen said, smiling back. “When did you get here?”</p><p>              “An hour or so ago,” Hunith said.</p><p>              “Is it a difficult journey from Ealdor?”</p><p>Hunith shook her head. “A few days on foot.”</p><p>              “Is there a reason Merlin isn’t here right now?” Gwen asked, looking around the room; it was unusual for neither Merlin nor Gaius to be there, and she wondered if something was wrong.</p><p>Huffing a short laugh, Hunith pointed to the closed door of Merlin’s room. “He and Gaius are arguing in there.”</p><p>              “They are?” While it wasn’t that surprising for the two of them to be arguing, it did strike Gwen as odd for them to do it when Merlin’s mother had just arrived after long journey.</p><p>              “Something about telling me something,” Hunith said. She shook her head. “Sounds like Merlin’s got himself caught up in another scheme of sorts.”</p><p>Gwen grinned. “‘Another’?”</p><p>              “Another,” Hunith confirmed. “He and Will were always getting into trouble of some sort when they were young. Still were, right up until Merlin went to Camelot.”</p><p>              “That sounds like Merlin,” Gwen said. “I swear, more has happened in the last few months than the previous five years put together.”</p><p>Hunith shook her head. “I told him to stay out of trouble.”</p><p>              “I don’t think that’s possible for him,” Gwen said, unable to help her huffed laugh. “He couldn’t even do that when Mordred was here.”</p><p>              “Mordred?” Hunith asked, her tone one of polite interest, but her forehead creased.</p><p>              “He’s…”</p><p>How much could Gwen tell Merlin’s mother?</p><p>              “He’s a boy we helped,” Gwen decided to go with, speaking slowly as she tried not to give away too much but also not lie to Merlin’s mother; she couldn’t exactly say that Merlin had a cousin because Hunith would be one of the few people to know that wasn’t true. “He…got on the wrong side of the law, but it wasn’t his fault. We hid him, then got him back home a few weeks ago.”</p><p>              “Merlin did this?”</p><p>Until that moment, Gwen hadn’t thought that Hunith and Merlin looked much alike; they had different hair, and eyes and noses and cheekbones. But the way they arched their eyebrows was the <em>exact same</em>. Right then, Gwen could have sworn it was Merlin stood in front of her.</p><p>              “I—yes?” Belatedly, Gwen remembered that Hunith had said she’d told Merlin to stay out of trouble. She hoped she wasn’t going to get him in trouble.</p><p>Luckily, something softened in Hunith’s face. “I’m glad to hear Camelot hasn’t changed him. It’s not as kind a place as it used to be, and I was worried he might end up different.”</p><p>The door to Merlin’s room creaked open then, and Merlin jogged down the stairs.</p><p>              “Hey, Gwen,” he said, but it didn’t hold his usual ease.</p><p>              “Hi Merlin.”</p><p>Merlin hesitated, glanced at Gaius and then back to Hunith. “Mum, I have something I need to tell you.”</p><p>Hunith squinted at him. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”</p><p>Gwen’s eyes shot to Merlin’s mother, who she had thought was kind but normal up until that point. An amused smile quirked on Gaius’ face; the physician turned away to hide it from his ward. Merlin <em>choked</em>.</p><p>              “No!”</p><p>              “No one’s pregnant with your child either?”</p><p>Merlin was struggling to breathe at that point, and Gwen was honestly a little concerned by the shade of puce he was turning. She was a little preoccupied by her reassessment of Hunith to do something about it, though; if there was a problem, she was sure Gaius would do something to help.</p><p>              “Mother!” Merlin exclaimed, seemingly at a loss to say anything else.</p><p>              “That’s not a ‘no’,” Hunith said, taking a step closer to her son and scanning her eyes up and down his body.</p><p>Gaius chuckled, shaking his head. “Hunith, I think that’s enough teasing for one day. The poor boy’s not getting enough oxygen.”</p><p>              “He hasn’t sent me any letters,” Hunith said. “Not a single one!”</p><p>              “<em>Merlin</em>,” Gaius said, turning to the boy in question. His voice had his typical scolding tone. “You haven’t written to your mother?”</p><p>              “N-no,” Merlin struggled to get out, bent over double and clutching at his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t think that’s a good response!”</p><p>Hunith shrugged. “You should have known me better than that, dear. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”</p><p>And—she had been <em>joking</em>. Gwen was suddenly very sure of who Merlin had inherited his sense of humour from – and she doubted it was his absent father.</p><p>Merlin had calmed down a bit, his chest no longer heaving for breath. “It’s about something you may need to lie about.”</p><p>              “I may need to lie?” Hunith frowned. “Sweetie, you know I don’t like lying.”</p><p>              “I do know, mother,” Merlin said, more quietly. “It’s important, though.”</p><p>Hunith paused, studying something in her son’s face; whatever she saw convinced her that this was truly important.</p><p>“Is it…” She trailed off, her gaze flickering to Gwen, who suddenly became very aware that she was the only person in the room who wasn’t aware of a secret.</p><p>Merlin quickly shook his head. “Not that. It’s about a young druid boy, Uther wanted to kill him but we hid him and then managed to get him out of Camelot.”</p><p>              “Oh, Mordred?” Hunith gestured in Gwen’s direction. “Your lovely friend, Gwen, here was just telling me that story. She didn’t mention he was a druid.”</p><p>              “Sorry,” Gwen said, not very sorry, “but in Camelot it isn’t safe.”</p><p>Hunith waved the apology away. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I lived here at the start of the Purge; I know what Camelot is like.”</p><p>              “Well, anyway,” Merlin said, “we protected Mordred by pretending he was my cousin, visiting from his aunt.”</p><p>Hunith blinked, then nodded. “Okay, what story did you use? Give me the details and I can back up your story.”</p><p>Gwen was a little amazed at just how quickly Hunith agreed to lie for them after saying she wasn’t a fan of lying. Scratch that, she was very amazed. As someone who had lived in Camelot her whole life, she was used to magic being the exception to people’s rules; she just wasn’t used to that exception being in the <em>defence</em> of magic-users.</p><p>It was usually the other way around; people wouldn’t snitch on their neighbours to the guards, unless it was magic that they saw.</p><p>              “He’s the son of your estranged sister,” Merlin explained. “She lived with you in Ealdor for a few months, but moved away when you got pregnant with me because she didn’t want to be associated with a bastard child.”</p><p>Gwen winced, as she always did when Merlin referred to himself as a bastard, and Hunith’s face fell.</p><p>              “My baby bird,” she murmured, soft, and Gwen stilled when she registered the words.</p><p>That was an…interesting nickname. Merlin seemed to think so too, because he went bright red. “Mother! I’ve asked you to stop calling me that.”</p><p>              “You don’t put yourself down and I won’t,” Hunith responded, firm.</p><p>Merlin groaned. “<em>Fine</em>. Your sister moved away <em>for no reason at all</em>, and then got married and had a son called Mordred six years later. Two and a half months ago, her husband died all of a sudden and she was struggling so she reached out to you for help; you sent Mordred to me to give her some space to herself.”</p><p>              “Not a bad story,” Hunith commented. “What’s my sister’s name?”</p><p>Merlin’s face went blank. “Uh. A…u…nith?”</p><p>              “Maybe not,” Gwen said, wincing.</p><p>              “Let’s just use my mother’s name,” Hunith said, looking amused at her son’s suggestion.</p><p>Gaius frowned. “I’m not sure your mother would be delighted to be involved in our lie.”</p><p>Scoffing, Hunith said, “She would love to be involved in telling Uther to go fuck himself.”</p><p>Feeling faint, Gwen took a step backwards to clutch at the table. Lying to the King was one thing, saying that the King’s rules were wrong was one thing, but <em>wanting to tell the King to go fuck himself</em>?</p><p>              “Mother,” Merlin said softly, “Gwen isn’t used to speaking against her King yet.” When Gwen glanced in her friend’s direction, he had his eye on her, face concerned.</p><p>              “Oh,” Hunith said, turning to look at Gwen too. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m not a huge fan of the King, there’s a reason I left Camelot.”</p><p>              “It’s fine,” Gwen said faintly. “That’s…fine.”</p><p>              “Anyway,” Gaius said, moving on, “I think you’re right, Hunith: Arlen works as a name, so we should use that.”</p><p>Hunith nodded. “Okay. I have some more questions. Have you told people she’s your half-sister too?”</p><p>              “No,” Gaius said. “We thought it best to avoid that…mess.”</p><p>Wait. <em>What</em>? Merlin’s mother was related to Gaius?</p><p>              “‘Mess’,” Hunith echoed. “I supposed you’re right, our family is a little messy. Should we say she’s my half-sister, then? My mother had another daughter, not with our father, so my sister Arlen isn’t related to you by blood.”</p><p>Merlin’s mother and Gaius shared a father?</p><p>              “That’s good,” Merlin said. “If anyone asks, you considered Arlen as your sister until she got mad and left, which is why we haven’t mentioned the ‘half’ cousin stuff until now.”</p><p>Was <em>Merlin </em>related to Gaius?</p><p>              “Good thinking, Merlin,” Gaius said. “That’s all we need, I think, but I’m glad we’ve got you up to speed, Hunith. If you’re going to request the help of Camelot, you’ll be interacting with people who interacted with Mordred and they’ll likely ask questions.”</p><p>Was Gaius Merlin’s <em>uncle</em>?</p><p>              “Should we request an audience?” Hunith asked Gaius, who inclined his head.</p><p>              “That would be wise. I can try to use my position speed up the process, but it will likely take a day or two before you can plead with the king for aid.”</p><p>              “Let’s go now, then,” Hunith said. “Can you show me the way?”</p><p>Gaius arched an eyebrow, and the two possibly-siblings started towards the door. “Forgotten your way around already?”</p><p>              “You say already like it hasn’t been twenty years.”</p><p>The last thing Gwen heard was Gaius saying, “Where’s that incredible memory of yours gone, then?”</p><p>Gwen was frozen, shell-shocked by this new revelation.</p><p>When Merlin made to follow his mother and <em>uncle</em>, Gwen said, “Wait!”</p><p>              “Hmm?” Merlin half-turned to look back at her, raising his eyebrow, and Gwen searched his face for similarities but she really couldn’t see any.</p><p>              “You’re—Hunith and Gaius are brother and sister?”</p><p>Merlin nodded like this was obvious. “Yeah, they are. Well, half-siblings. My grandfather got remarried after his first wife died.”</p><p>              “Wow,” Gwen said, startled. “They…don’t look the same age. At all.” She paused, realised what she’d said, then quickly added, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything! It’s just—well, your mother looks a lot younger than Gaius.”</p><p>              “It’s fine,” Merlin said. He had been grinning, but then pulled a face as he said, “Gaius is a lot older. Like, more than twenty years older. My grandmother was…a <em>lot </em>younger than my grandfather. The same age as Gaius.”</p><p>              “<em>Ah</em>.”</p><p>Merlin sighed and shared a grimace with Gwen. “I won’t get into the specifics. But yeah.”</p><p>              “She grew up here?” Gwen asked.</p><p>His expression suddenly shifted into one Gwen couldn’t read, tensing and brushing his shirt off. “We should get going, I’m need to ask Arthur if he can help my mother get an audience with the king. Did you need anything?”</p><p>Gwen blinked, startled by the change in demeanour. It took her a moment to remember that she had had a reason to visit Gaius. “I—yes. Morgana’s sleeping potion. She’s run out.”</p><p>              “Okay.” Merlin moved over to the cabinet on the far wall, and searched through it before returning with a potion. “Does this look right?”</p><p>Gwen paused. “Should you be giving me medicine if you don’t know what it’s for?”</p><p>              “Probably not,” Merlin had to admit. “You should come back when Gaius is here, else I might end up poisoning Morgana or something.”</p><p>Gwen grimaced. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be great.”</p><p>              “I’ll see you later,” Merlin said, before hurrying out of the room, leaving Gwen still confused by the whole situation.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The meeting with Uther went poorly, although Merlin was impressed by how well his mother lied about thinking Uther a good man.</p><p>He, and Gaius and Gwen, were probably the only people in the room who would know otherwise. Gwen wouldn’t know why, despite what she’d heard earlier.</p><p>Wouldn’t know that Merlin’s grandmother had been magic, and killed in the purge; wouldn’t know that Hunith had fled Camelot because, although she didn’t practice magic, accusations were being thrown around. She wouldn’t know that Merlin’s father had had magic; that <em>Merlin </em>had magic.</p><p>That was the only thing Hunith had ever told Merlin about his father: that he was magic.</p><p>Merlin was even more impressed that he kept his own expression blank throughout the audience, that he didn’t give away his anger away when Uther refused to send aid.</p><p>To be fair, Merlin would understand if it was any village but his own. King Cenred was <em>not </em>known for his understanding nature, and probably would start a war with Camelot if he learned that Knights were on his land.</p><p>He wouldn’t have made that decision himself but—he understand why Uther had.</p><p>It made him feel a little slimy, to understand Uther Pendragon, the butcherer of his kind.</p><p> </p><p>Once Merlin was sure that his mother was with Gaius, who knew his way around the castle, he followed Arthur out of the throne room and to the battlements.</p><p>              “I’m sorry,” Arthur offered, staring out across the town with his arms crossed and a brooding look on his face. “If it were up to me, we’d be on our way there right now.”</p><p>Merlin sighed. “Well, you tried. And thank you, for getting us an audience with the king.”</p><p>              “Will your cousin be alright?” Arthur asked. “Your mother said that some of your village may not survive.”</p><p>Merlin was <em>touched </em>that Arthur was worried for Mordred, but he was also concerned because that question gave off the vibes of someone who was going to be suspicious about Mordred not living in the same place.</p><p>              “Mordred and his mother don’t live in Ealdor,” Merlin said, and Arthur’s gaze shot to him, “so unless their town is <em>also </em>being threatened by bandits, they’re going to be fine.”</p><p>              “They don’t live in Ealdor?” Arthur repeated, his eyebrows rising and his mouth at a slant that Merlin didn’t like the look of.</p><p>Merlin shook his head. “It’s a long and complicated story, involving me being born to my very much single mother. My aunt was embarrassed, so left.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Arthur said. When Merlin glanced over at him, he looked taken aback. Merlin supposed it wasn’t everyday that your servant told you he was a bastard. “I’m…sorry that that happened.”</p><p>              “Ah, I’m fine with it,” Merlin said, waving a dismissive hand. “Lived with it my whole life.”</p><p>              “Still,” Arthur said. “I don’t want to bring up bad memories or whatever.”</p><p>Merlin just shrugged, and the two of them stood in silence for a while, just gazing out across Camelot.</p><p>It was a cloudy day, but the sun would pop out every now and then, and shine through the trees so the battlements were dappled with light.</p><p>In Merlin mind, it was always strange how much calmer Camelot looked from the castle; the view from above gave the impression that there weren’t that many people around, but when you were down in the crowds with merchants shouting their wares and food vendors cooking up delicious smelling food and the blacksmith hammering away in his workshop, just off the main street…you got a very different impression of things.</p><p>Maybe that was why Uther was such a distant king; he only ever had the view from his towering castle, and rarely went down and got caught up in the nitty gritty of life in his kingdom.</p><p>Maybe that was why Arthur was so much better. Maybe it was because of his father’s failings.</p><p>              “<em>You’re</em> thinking very hard,” Arthur said, startling Merlin. “Be careful, you might hurt yourself.”</p><p>Merlin chuckle, but it sounded weak even to his own ears, and Arthur gave him a worried look. Before the other man could ask, Merlin said, “I’m going back to Ealdor.”</p><p>              “Of course.”</p><p>              “It’s been an honour serving you,” Merlin said, and he meant every word. Because at his heart, Arthur was a good man. Even if it was hard to see sometimes.</p><p>Arthur twisted his head around, and surprise coloured his voice when he spoke. “But you’ll be coming back. Won’t you?”</p><p>Sighing, Merlin said, “I don’t know. But she’s my mother, I have to make sure that she’s alright. Do you get that?”</p><p>              “I’d do exactly the same.”</p><p>Arthur’s response soothed some of Merlin’s nerves. As much as he wanted to stay in Camelot, to stay with his friends and hopefully see Mordred and Lancelot again, his mother took priority. For Arthur to accept that fact meant something to Merlin; more than he’d ever let himself admit.</p><p>              “Well,” Arthur said, “you’ve been terrible. Really, I mean it. The worst servant I’ve ever had.”</p><p>Merlin laughed, grinning wide and bright at his master’s words. Or now, he guessed, Arthur wasn’t going to be his master anymore. Not if did decide to stay in Ealdor.</p><p>              “Thank you, sire.”</p><p>And that was that; Merlin walked off. He didn’t think there was anything more to be said, and lengthening the moment would just spoil it.</p><p>              “Merlin,” Arthur said, and Merlin stopped and looked back for what he thought might very well be the last time. “Good luck.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Morgana and Gwen cornered Merlin in Gwen’s house and convinced him to let them come too, and despite what he tells Gaius later, he didn’t really put up much of a fight.</p><p>Besides, they were both better riders than him or his mother, and it helped to have someone – two someones – experienced who were willing to give him helpful advice or, in Morgana’s case, criticisms pretending to be helpful advice.</p><p>The first two days of travel went well; they made what Merlin thought was good time, and by the time they set up camp on the second night, they were only a few hours away from Ealdor.</p><p>Merlin’s friends turned in early for the night, leaving just him and his mother beside the fire.</p><p>              “You know,” Hunith said quietly once they’d covered the delightful topic of possible terrible outcomes, “I think that they would keep your secret.”</p><p>Merlin stiffened, the stick in his hands creaking as his grip tightened on it before he fed it to the fire.</p><p>              “I’ve seen how you act with them. I think…you want to, my baby bird.”</p><p>              “I hadn’t considered it, not really, until we helped Mordred,” Merlin murmured, keeping his gaze fixed on the fire. “But…we helped him – they helped him, both of them, really helped him. They didn’t just smuggle him away from execution. Gwen let him help with her job; Morgana read her favourite books to him.”</p><p>              “You’re not going to tell them, are you,” Hunith said, and it wasn’t a question but a statement because she knew him better than anyone right then.</p><p>Merlin shook his head, pulling his knees even closer to his chest so he had to look over the top of them to stare at the flickering fire. The smoke tried to blow in their faces, but he swept it away again with a murmured spell.</p><p>              “I tried. Once. With Gwen. I planned it, just the right moment, a week or so after Mordred left. But then—I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t get the words out, it made me feel so sick.”</p><p>Hunith rubbed at his shoulder, and Merlin relaxed into the familiar touch. “Like I said, I think they would keep your secret if you asked. But you don’t owe it to anyone, okay?”</p><p>              “I know they would try to keep it,” Merlin said blankly. “Once you’ve shared it with seven, it spreads.”</p><p>              “Seven?” Hunith repeated, and there was a frown in her voice that Merlin didn’t need to look at her to hear.</p><p>              “You,” he said. “Gaius. Will. Lancelot. Mordred. If I were to tell Gwen and Morgana, it would be seven.”</p><p>Hunith paused and then asked, a new tone to her voice that Mordred thought was entirely too teasing, “Who’s Lancelot?”</p><p>              “A friend of mine,” Merlin said. He fed a stick to the fire. “He saved my life. Wants to be a knight. I forged some documents and he was knighted but then the King found out and banished him. We killed a griffin together, and I accidentally showed him my magic.”</p><p>There was a pause and then: “That sounds interesting, darling. Is there a particular reason you like this boy?”</p><p>Knowing exactly what his mother was getting at, Merlin groaned, “<em>Mum</em>!”</p><p>              “I’m only saying that you seem to have gotten quite attached him,” Hunith said, trying to sound delicate. She failed. “How long did you know Lancelot before you broke the law for him?”</p><p>Merlin hesitated, knowing his mother would be amused by his answer, and then muttering under his breath, “Two days.”</p><p>The laughter was audible in Hunith’s voice. “Did my baby bird have a crush?”</p><p>              “No,” Merlin said. But…he didn’t like lying to his mother. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”</p><p>              “It sounds like you need to talk to him about these feelings,” Hunith said, more gently this time. “Are you in contact with him?”</p><p>              “We send a letter every half month.”</p><p>              “I see.” Hunith paused, and Merlin knew she was about to say something awful, so he quickly spoke instead.</p><p>              “I don’t have a crush on him.”</p><p>              “Are you sure about that, sweetie?”</p><p>Merlin nodded, his chin knocking his knees in the process. “I think I did? But I’m over it. We might have kissed. Maybe. Once.”</p><p>              “Oh, baby.” Hunith tugged at his shoulder, pulling him in so his head rested in her lap. “Did he break your heart?”</p><p>              “No,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “He was very nice about saying that he thought I was very kind but I’m too young.”</p><p>              “How old is he?”</p><p>Merlin shrugged. “Nineteen.”</p><p>              “Then I’m glad he turned you down,” Hunith said, and her voice was gentle. “Two years is a big gap at your age.”</p><p>              “I know,” Merlin said. “I’m over it. Lancelot’s my friend, he’s one of the nicest people I know.”</p><p>Hunith huffed a laugh into Merlin’s hair. “I’m glad it didn’t turn out badly. And I’m glad you have a responsible friend.”</p><p><em>You have no idea</em>, Merlin thought, remembering some of Lancelot’s less sensible moments, but didn’t say anything.</p><p>              “Mm.”</p><p>              “Get some rest,” Hunith said, and she ruffled Merlin’s hair before getting to her feet and moving to her sleeping mat.</p><p>Merlin stayed by the fire for a little longer, and picked up one of the sticks. One of the ends was white-hot, and he blew the embers out into air.</p><p>Muttering a spell that was one of Mordred’s favourite, Merlin shaped the embers into a dragon. It fluttered its wings once before dissipating again, glowing bright in the dark forest.</p><p>Merlin loved his magic. He was terrified of what might happen if it was discovered, and he worried about what he was supposed to do as Emrys, but his magic was at the very core of who he was. He’d been using it all his life; without it, he didn’t know who he was.</p><p>Which was maybe why he was so scared of telling people about it. Because if he showed them who he was, genuinely truly was, and they reported him to Uther then he didn’t know what he would do. Beyond the whole execution thing, being told that his magic was something evil and bad and painful would…</p><p>He thought it would break him.</p><p> </p><p>Once the fire was burnt down and Merlin had laid down on his sleeping mat, there was a shuffling in the woods; he got up to investigate it and found Arthur.</p><p>And after Merlin explained the situation to Arthur, said that Kanen had nearly forty men, and Arthur didn’t tease him, he knew that things sounded bad.</p><p>But—Merlin also knew that Arthur didn’t just go there for him. He went there for Ealdor, because they were people who needed his help. And while some people may have been offended by that, to Merlin it was a far greater gift. Arthur was, at his heart, a good man. This was…a confirmation.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so...my first chapter without Mordred. he won't show up for a few chapters, but he's going to be back in chapter 10. just so you know.</p><p>also, Gaius and Hunith are siblings according to the Merlin Wiki, but they've got a massive age gap?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second half of 'The Moment of Truth', and the consequences.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so, this is obviously the first chapter that really, properly follows an episode (excalibur was kind of only vaguely following). i tried not to just write out the scenes that happen? because that would be boring and feel weird. but i did change some things, too.<br/>i hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They arrived in Ealdor early the next morning, and Merlin had been almost dreading returning to Ealdor. Sure, he’d been missing it for months, but he was returning a different person, with the Prince of Camelot riding beside him.</p><p>It was in many ways lucky that they arrived in the middle of the attack, because Merlin was able to throw himself right into things without worrying about how he was walking or talking and where his hands were and if his face was doing something weird.</p><p>He knew his accent had changed slightly, gaining some of the posher tones that Arthur and the rest of Camelot used. His mother hadn’t mentioned it, but she would never bring it up; she would never intentionally hurt Merlin.</p><p>He wasn’t sure about the rest of Ealdor.</p><p>The first person who spoke to him was Will, and Merlin had known he was going to be.</p><p>              “Still up to your magic tricks,” his childhood friend said, deadpan. “I thought I told you, we don’t want your kind round here.”</p><p>A moment later, his face broke out into one his wide, toothy grins, and they threw their arms around each other as Merlin grinned back.</p><p>              “Missed you too, Will.”</p><p>And he did; Will was the entirety of his childhood, aside from his mother. The other children had mocked Merlin for his heritage – or rather, lack of it – and the adults were all busy working the fields.</p><p>Merlin and Will had been the two troublemakers, spending their summers running around at speeds the other kids couldn’t match; spending their winters rigging snow up in all kinds of wild places to fall on any unfortunate soul who passed by at the wrong time.</p><p>              “It’s good to see you again.”</p><p>Will pulled back to hold him at arm’s length. “How’ve you been in big old fancy Camelot? I notice you’ve gotten a fancy accent.”</p><p>Because if Hunith would never mention the change because she didn’t want Merlin to feel our of place, Will did on the first second he saw Merlin again. That was just the kind of person he was.</p><p>              “Will,” Merlin groaned. “It’s not <em>fancy</em>. And it’s barely changed, really. Everyone has an accent, you’ve just got a different one.”</p><p>              “That sounded to me like three weak excuses,” Will said. “Can’t even get one strong enough to us for more than a sentence, huh? Just proves I’m right.” He paused, then grinned something <em>fiendish</em>. “I hear you’re skivvying for some prince.”</p><p>              “No,” Merlin quickly said, “I’m not a skivvy.”</p><p>Arthur had the worst timing in the world; Merlin would take that assertion to his grave.</p><p>              “Merlin, gather the villagers, I need to talk to them,” he ordered, casually pointing his sword around. Merlin had grown used to Arthur’s casual violence, but the people of Ealdor weren’t, and he didn't think it was a great idea to just be waving a weapon like that.</p><p>              “Yeah, in a minute,” Merlin said, even when he knew it wasn’t going to end well. “I’m just talking—”</p><p>              “Now, Merlin,” Arthur said, more firmly this time. “There isn’t much time.”</p><p>Merlin sighed, preparing himself for a barrage of teasing. “Yes, sire.” Strangely, when he looked to Will, it wasn’t delight on his friend’s face but instead something grim. He wasn’t used to that expression.</p><p>              “What is it?”</p><p>Will shook his head, lip curling slightly. “Nothing. Go and do what your master tells you to.”</p><p>              “Will—” Merlin wasn’t sure why his friend was acting strangely, but he was taken aback; before he could find out, Arthur called him over again.</p><p>With a last glance at Will, Merlin hurried over to Arthur to decide how they were going to defend Ealdor.</p><p>When Will pushed through the gathering, though, and demanded to know exactly who Arthur thought he was, Merlin realised that he knew exactly what was happening.</p><p>              “I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot,” Arthur answered, straightening a little in the way he always did when he named himself.</p><p>Merlin thought it was because he was prat; Gaius told him it was because Arthur loved his kingdom. Merlin wasn’t convinced.</p><p>              “Oh, yeah?” Will scoffed. “And I’m Prince William of Ealdor.”</p><p>              “Keep quiet,” Hunith said, her voice pitched at a scolding tone that normally made Will grin and dart away.</p><p>This time, he just turned and said, more angrily than Merlin’s mother deserved, “He’s just made things worse. Kanen will be back, and when he is, he’ll be looking for revenge.” The look Will gave Arthur wasn’t one that Merlin had seen on him before. Ever. “You’ve signed our death warrants.”</p><p>              “He saved Matthew’s life,” Hunith said, her voice rising.</p><p>              “It’s alright, Hunith,” Arthur said, like Merlin’s mother was someone who couldn’t defend herself.</p><p><em>He has no idea</em>.</p><p>              “This is his village.” He addressed the last part towards Will: “What would you have us do?”</p><p>              “We can’t fight against Kanen,” Will said. “He has too many men.”</p><p>Merlin had never known Will to give up so easily; had never known him to be so…angry.</p><p>But then he hadn't known Will to meet a prince before, and it had been so long since Will’s father died. Had this disdain and anger been festering in the wound since then, growing and growing until Will wanted to send away their only offer of help?</p><p>              “So what’s the alternative?” Arthur’s gaze was fixed on Will in a way that meant he was building up to something.</p><p>Despite what Merlin said ninety-nine percent of the time, Arthur wasn’t an idiot. He had moments, like this one was about to become, where he could outsmart people.</p><p>              “We give him what he wants.”</p><p>Merlin should have done something about this sooner, tried to help Will through this anger. Because…this, right here, wasn’t who Will was. And Merlin didn’t want this to be the Will that his new friends met.</p><p>              “Will,” Merlin murmured, and started to move forward, to pull his oldest friend away to try and talk about this before he argued such a stupid point any longer. Before he argued a point that he would never even consider if Arthur wasn’t there.</p><p>              “Then what?” Arthur asked. “Those of you who don’t <em>starve to death</em>” –that raised muttering– “will face him next harvest. And the harvest after that.”</p><p>              “We manage,” Will said. “We’ll survive.”</p><p>“Will,” Merlin said again, louder this time, and strode across to his friend; he grabbed onto Will’s arm, and tugged him away from the crowd of villagers.</p><p>Will tugged back once they were a bit away, pulling his arm out of Merlin’s grip. He didn’t go back, but stopped with arms crossed and face <em>furious</em>.</p><p>              “What are you trying to do, Merlin?” he demanded.</p><p>              “You’re angry,” Merlin said, “and blaming Arthur for things he can’t control.”</p><p>              “He’s just here for honour and glory.” Will spat the words out, like he couldn’t stand to let them linger on his tongue. “He should risk his <em>own</em> people, not ours.”</p><p>Merlin hissed out a sharp breath. “Will, that’s not—Arthur’s not like that.”</p><p>              “They’re all <em>like</em> <em>that</em>. Princes, kings, nobles – there’s no difference. None of them care about people like us.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Merlin said, “Arthur’s different, he does care.”</p><p>              “Really?” Will snorted derisively. “You actually expect me to believe that shit.”</p><p>              “It’s true! He risked his own life to save mine, going against the king. He’s defended me when he hasn’t had to, multiple times. Arthur knows what he’s doing.”</p><p>Will scoffed, but Merlin pushed on.</p><p>              “When I first him, I thought he was pompous and arrogant. But now” –he held out a hand to stop Will interrupting– “now I know that he’s a good man. He wants to help us.”</p><p>              “You’re just his servant.”</p><p>              “Exactly,” Merlin said. “I’m his servant, but he cares enough to save me. He’s my friend, too.”</p><p>              “Friends don’t lord it over one another.”</p><p>              “He isn’t like that,” Merlin was quick to say. “I trust Arthur with my life.”</p><p>              “Is that so? He knows your secret, then?”</p><p>And Will—Will was angry, Merlin knew that; knew that this was something he was saying in the heat of the moment, something he didn’t really mean. But it hurt anyway.</p><p>Because Merlin’s magic was a core part of who he was, but it wasn’t everything. Trusting Arthur with every other piece of himself didn’t feel like it means nothing, and Will was <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>              “Face it, Merlin,” Will continued, oblivious to the way Merlin stilled, “you’re living a lie. Just like you were here. You’re Arthur’s servant, nothing more.”</p><p>Merlin walked off without a word.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Prince Arthur may have been trained in manners and etiquette from a very young age, but he could be so incredibly rude sometimes.</p><p>Gwen wasn’t sure <em>why </em>he thought he was entitled to look down on the food Hunith had been making him, but he was and it was disrespectful.</p><p>He’d also completely dismissed Morgana and Gwen when they offered to fight; at least he’d now agreed to allow them, but Gwen didn’t know why he thought it had been his decision in the first place.</p><p>When he made a snide comment about the breakfast Gwen had gone out of her way to bring him, she stopped in her tracks.</p><p>              “Food is scarce for these people. You shouldn’t turn your nose up at it,” she snapped, only to remember exactly who she was talking to. “Oh, no, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, I’m sorry—”</p><p>              “Gwen.”</p><p>Backing away, Gwen continued to stammer out apologies.</p><p>              “<em>Guinevere</em>.” Arthur put an odd emphasis on Gwen’s name, the ‘vere’ heavy and weighted. Gwen didn’t think she’d heard anyone say it like that before.</p><p>She stopped and reluctantly turned around.</p><p>              “Thank you,” Arthur said, which was…unexpected. She’d gone into this thinking he was rude, and yet here he was: thanking her. “You’re right.” There was a pause, and Arthur let out a frustrated sigh before adding, “And you were right to speak up. I should have listened to you and Morgana.”</p><p>That was…new. In her entire time working in Camelot, Gwen had only heard the prince use the words ‘thank you’ half a dozen time. Never, <em>ever</em>, had he said them to a servant.</p><p>              “We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Arthur added under his breath.</p><p>              “We’ll be fine,” Gwen said, moving closer.</p><p>              “How can you be so sure?”</p><p>              “Because I have faith in <em>you</em>.” Gwen meant every word; no matter what she thought about Arthur’s manners, she genuinely believed that he would one day be a great king. And that, on his better days, he was already a great prince.</p><p>Arthur hesitated, then inclined his head. “Thank you.”</p><p>Gwen nodded back, and then glanced over her shoulder. Ealdor was just visible through the trees. It was a pretty village, but life seemed tough there; Gwen wasn’t sure what Merlin thought of it, to be honest.</p><p>But she had chores to do and swords to sharpen so she started back towards it. The short distance gave her time to think.</p><p>Unlike what Merlin had said, everyone there had spoken common to her. She’d walked in on one conversation in another language, which Gwen had presumed to be the language of Essetir. As soon as the two women had noticed she was there, they’d smiled and switched almost flawlessly into common.</p><p>It was odd to be in a place where everyone spoke another language, and called the common tongue their second, but still went out of their way to accommodate the visitors from Camelot.</p><p>Gwen…wasn’t entirely sure she liked it. Making the people of Ealdor change their habits felt odd, and Gwen had always tried her best to accommodate the culture of others.</p><p>Which led her down another trail of thought: the boy who seemed to hate Arthur, the one Merlin had called Will.</p><p>Gwen wasn’t entirely sure what was going on between Merlin and Will, but it was clearly upsetting Merlin. The confrontation over Matthew’s dead body hadn’t been a good moment.</p><p>In many ways, Gwen did understand why Will didn’t like royals; she had her own issues with Uther, and thought that there many of them who didn’t deserve their titles. But as a servant, Gwen had also encountered those who were kind and generous. To say that all nobles were one thing was just plain wrong.</p><p>But…she didn’t think that was the limits of his argument with Merlin. Because Merlin seemed hurt, the kind of hurt he wasn’t normally. Arthur insulted him regularly, sure, but Merlin always seemed to bounce back with a laugh and another insult in return.</p><p>What was it about Will that made him able to actually hurt Merlin?</p><p>And, more importantly, could Gwen do anything to help them sort things out?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Arthur’s sentries gave them some warning before the attack, so there was time to prepare and put armour on. Merlin hadn’t worn chainmail into battle before, and he didn’t think he wanted to do it again; it was heavy and clinked loudly whenever he shifted even a little bit.</p><p>The battle was fierce, considering, and the idea of using his magic in front of people terrified Merlin to his very core, but…</p><p>When it came down to it, he was prepared to give up his cover for his people.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Will was dead</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen didn’t know how to comfort Merlin, and so she had settled for offering her help if he wanted to talk or anything.</p><p>Merlin had just stared at her blankly, one side of his face lit by his friend’s pyre, until all Gwen could do was lay a hand on his shoulder and bite her lip as his head swung back around and his gaze once again fixed on the flames.</p><p>It had only been a few hours since they’d chased the remainder Kanen’s men away, but there had a been a silent consensus that the bodies be burned as quickly as possible. Gwen wasn’t one of the injured, so she had helped build the pyres.</p><p>Merlin hadn’t left Will’s side until the moment the body was laid down on the pile of wood; even now, he didn’t budge from his spot.</p><p>He just seemed…numb. Like he couldn’t quite comprehend that his friend was gone, and wasn’t coming back.</p><p>Gwen didn’t know how to help him with that.</p><p>After her mother had died, she’d learned how to help her baby brother with the restlessness that woke up him at odd hours and drove him to spend hour after hour with a sword; she’d learned how to coax her father out of his workshop and sit down with them to eat; she’d learned that goals helped her, so she’d spent every free second cooking and cleaning and sewing.</p><p>Merlin’s grief was different. It was cold and icy and swollen with guilt.</p><p>When Gwen looked up, Hunith was approaching, her face creased with worry. She stopped on Merlin’s other side.</p><p>              “Baby bird,” she began, and then switched to another language, one that Gwen didn’t understand.</p><p>Gwen slipped away to give the two of them space. As she left, she glanced back only once; Merlin had his face buried in his mother’s shoulder, and Hunith was threading her fingers through his hair. Gwen looked away again.</p><p>One thing she’d learned from her mother’s death was that grief was private thing, and she hadn’t known Will. This was a part of Merlin’s life where she didn’t have a place.</p><p>In Camelot, maybe. But not here, in Merlin’s home. Here, Gwen left Merlin to quietly grieve with his mother.</p><p>They didn’t need to return yet; they could stay the night, and give Merlin space.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The journey home was a quiet one, with far less of playful banter than just a few days before.</p><p>Merlin was still quiet, but at least he was talking now; he gave short answers when asked questions, his voice a hoarse whisper, and didn’t start conversation.</p><p>Gwen kept a concerned eye on him, making sure that he drank when he hadn’t, and that she checked on him when he hadn’t spoken for too long.</p><p>Arthur and Morgana were glaring at each other for the entirety of the three-day journey back to Camelot. On the night of the funeral, and the battle, Morgana had berated Arthur soundly about talking ill of the dead at their own funeral. Gwen didn’t berate him, because he was her prince and once was as much as she could handle in a week, but she found herself giving him occasional disappointed looks.</p><p>Confronting a mourner at a funeral about the dead person’s supposed crimes was <em>not</em> Arthur’s best moment.</p><p>Gwen hoped it would be his worse.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They were welcomed back to Camelot with little fanfare, and instead a harsh word from Uther about disobeying his orders; as soon as the four of them were dismissed, Merlin vanished. He was there one second and gone the next.</p><p>Gwen didn’t comment, didn’t mention it to Arthur, who put up a weak pretence of grumbling before he, too, left for his chambers.</p><p>And then just Gwen and Morgana remained.</p><p>              “Milady, would you like me to draw you a bath?” Gwen asked, quiet and respectful. “You must be tired after so many days travelling.”</p><p>              “So must you,” Morgana said, her voice equally soft. “Take the day off, I insist.”</p><p>              “But, milady, I must attend to you, and—”</p><p>              “I can attend to myself for just one night. Go home and rest.”</p><p>Gwen weighed the merits of trying to convince her mistress to change her mind, but ultimately came to the conclusion that no one could change Morgana’s mind. “Alright. Thank you, you are very kind, milady.”</p><p>              “This is but a small favour,” Morgana said, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand. “Compared to all you have sacrificed for me, it is nothing.”</p><p>Pausing, Gwen asked, “Is this really a <em>sacrifice</em>?”</p><p>              “Well, of course,” Morgana laughed, her eyes glinting with mischief. “There is a good reason I do not attend to myself every night.”</p><p>              “That doesn’t reassure me,” Gwen murmured, more to herself to Morgana.</p><p>Morgana laughed again, bell-like. “I’ll be fine, Gwen.”</p><p>              “If you say so. Send word if you’re really struggling.”</p><p>              “If I’m really struggling, I’ll send for another servant; one who <em>won’t</em> be half the town away,” Morgana said with a teasing edge to her voice.</p><p>Gwen chuckled then, the sound more of a snort than anything else. “Good luck, then, milady. Sleep well.” She started down the hallway, towards the stairs that would lead her to the courtyard.</p><p>              “You too,” Morgana called out after her.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen didn’t go home; she went to the physician’s chambers.</p><p>              “Gwen?” Gaius seemed surprised by her arrival. His perpetually raised eyebrow joined by his other one as they rose up his forehead. Then, something cleared on his face and he jerked his head in the direction of Merlin’s room. “He’s in there.”</p><p>Gwen nodded her thanks. “How’s he doing?”</p><p>              “Not very well,” Gaius said. He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping.</p><p>              “Okay,” Gwen whispered.</p><p>              “I think talking to someone would help. He’s stuck in his head right now, and all he’s thinking about is his friend.”</p><p>              “Okay,” Gwen said again. She moved across the room with quiet steps, and then ascended the stairs to knock on Merlin’s closed door.</p><p>No response.</p><p>              “Merlin?” she called, trying to be as gentle as possible but still be heard through the door. “It’s Gwen.”</p><p>No response.</p><p>              “I just wanted to check up on you. If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine.”</p><p>No response.</p><p>              “Okay.” Gwen was about to just leave, but at the last moment she decided to add, “Morgana’s given me the day off, so I’ll be at home if you want someone to talk to.”</p><p>She moved back down the five steps, and was halfway across Gaius’ room and nodding farewell to Gaius, when the man suddenly stiffened, his gaze fixing on something behind her; Gwen turned to see Merlin’s door open just a crack, his head poking out.</p><p>              “I-I’d like to see you.”</p><p>Unable to help the relief that surged through her, Gwen gave her friend a gentle smile. “May I come in?” she asked as she moved closer.</p><p>Merlin bit his lip but nodded; he stepped back from the door, and sat down cross-legged on his bed, by the headboard. Gwen’s skirt swished as she took the stairs, but she ignored it in favour of focusing on her grieving friend.</p><p>              “Did you want something?” Merlin asked, sounding a little stiff.</p><p>His eyes were glistening, red and puffy, and tears had left their tracks down his cheeks. Black hair was messy, sticking up on one side and flat on the other like he’d been lying down on it; his clothes were the same he’d been wearing for days.</p><p>Not that Gwen could talk – she’d been wearing the same dark tunic and trousers for the same length of time.</p><p>              “Just to check on you,” she answered, taking a seat at the end of his bed.</p><p>Merlin shrugged, the motion stiff. “I’m fine.”</p><p>              “I very much doubt that,” Gwen said, keeping her voice quiet. It wasn’t supposed to be an accusation, and she wanted to make sure it didn’t sound like one.</p><p>His brow furrowing and eyes narrowing, Merlin opened his mouth, likely to insist that he really was fine and Gwen really didn’t need to worry about it and he didn’t want to take up her time.</p><p>              “You don’t have to talk about it,” she continued before he could say anything. “Not if you don’t want to. We can sit in silence, or I could talk at you, or anything really. But in my experience, it’s not good to be alone.”</p><p>Merlin didn’t say anything for a moment, staring down at his sock-covered feet with his hands resting on his knees. “I think,” he said, slow and quiet, “that I would like you to talk to me.”</p><p>              “Okay,” Gwen said. “What do you want to talk about?”</p><p>A pause, and then:</p><p>              “Your experience?” The question was weak, Merlin’s voice catching halfway through.</p><p>              “Okay,” Gwen said again. “My experience with grief.” Not her favourite topic, but it had been a long time. “My mother died when I was ten years old.</p><p>              “My father, he took it badly. Spent a lot of long nights in the workshop to try and keep his mind off things. Stayed away from the places that reminded him of her. It took a few months before he was ready to properly talk to us again.</p><p>              “I was the one who looked after my brother, did the cooking and the cleaning and made sure he stayed out of trouble.” Gwen huffed out a laugh at the memories. “I didn’t do very well.”</p><p>              “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Merlin said, tilting his head to one side with interest sparking on his face.</p><p>Gwen nodded. “Elyan. He’s two years younger than me.”</p><p>              “What’s he like?”</p><p>              “Cheeky. Unpredictable. Unruly.” Gwen paused when she realised that she was only listing bad things. “That’s not fair. He was fun, too. He used to get annoyed whenever I said he’s two years younger because it’s actually only one year and nine months.”</p><p>              “‘Was’?”</p><p>Sighing, Gwen said, “I haven’t seen him in a year and a half so—I don’t know if he’s still like that.”</p><p>              “Why did he leave?” Merlin asked, concern shining clear on his face.</p><p>              “He was getting into trouble, a lot of it. Not just little things, either, he was hanging around with some nasty people. I was being overbearing, apparently, so he just…left.”</p><p>              “Have you heard from him? Has he written?”</p><p>Gwen shook her head. “Not to me, no. I worry. He was twenty when he left. Only seventeen when he started hanging out with some nasty people.”</p><p>              “I’m seventeen now,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “Yes, and I don’t want <em>you</em> hanging out with thugs either.”</p><p>Merlin pulled a face that made him look even younger and did not help his case. “I can look after myself.”</p><p>              “You would get yourself killed within a week,” Gwen said. “So, no. I don’t think he should be travelling the world by himself.”</p><p>There was a pause, then: “Who did he write to?”</p><p>              “Hmm?”</p><p>              “You said he hasn’t written to <em>you</em>,” Merlin said. “Who has he written to?”</p><p>Gwen debated the merits of sharing, remembered that she was there to take Merlin’s mind off of things, and knew that this information would most certainly do that. “You’re not going to believe this, but…Sir Leon.”</p><p>Merlin’s jaw dropped. “<em>Sir Leon</em>?”</p><p>              “Yeah, that was Lady Morgana’s reaction too.” Gwen chuckled to herself. “I know he doesn’t seem the type.”</p><p>              “To be friends with a commoner? Not in a million years.”</p><p>              “We grew up together,” Gwen said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Me, Elyan, and Leon. When Leon started training, he would practice with Elyan. The three of us were…close.”</p><p>Merlin nodded, fascinated.</p><p>              “But then, when he was twenty, Leon was knighted,” Gwen said. “It’s not proper for knights to be friends with commoners, especially not servants, so we couldn’t.”</p><p>              “The Knights’ Code is stupid.”</p><p>              “It can be,” Gwen allowed.</p><p>They were both thinking of Lancelot, Gwen knew.</p><p>              “How old were you?”</p><p>Gwen sighed and tried to remember. “Well, I would have been nineteen, and Elyan was seventeen, I think.”</p><p>              “That was a while ago.”</p><p>Gwen nodded. “Yes, it was.”</p><p>              “Five years?”</p><p>              “Four.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “That sucks. Why would Leon cut contact with you?”</p><p>              “I wouldn’t say he cut contact,” Gwen said, her brow creasing.</p><p>Because they may have been shoved apart the moment Uther’s sword brushed Leon’s shoulders, but…Leon had never stopped nodding and giving her a smile when they passed in the hallways. Even when he was surrounded by a gaggle of young and proper knights and Gwen was holding a basket full of her mistress’ dirty laundry.</p><p>              “He’s just so <em>proper</em>.”</p><p>Gwen laughed and was glad that Merlin wasn’t just sitting there stewing. “He wasn’t always like that. Remember when you heard him call his horse Sunpetal?”</p><p>              “Of course,” Merlin said immediately.</p><p>              “Just wait until I tell you what he named his <em>first</em> horse.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen made sure to arrive at the castle early the next morning, because she felt bad about having half off the previous day off even though Morgana had specifically told her to.</p><p>On the way to the kitchens, she was stopped short by the sight of Merlin heading in same direction; she hurried to catch up to him.</p><p>              “You’re working today?”</p><p>Merlin gave her a confused look. “Of course I am.”</p><p>The two of them had spent hours yesterday, talking and laughing and gossiping about half of the inhabitants of the castle. Merlin had quietly thanked Gwen just before she left, and Gwen had told him that if he ever needed her he just needed to say.</p><p>              “Did Arthur not want to give you a sick day?” Gwen shook her head. “You’re grieving, you should get the week off at least. I’ll tell Lady Morgana, she’ll insult him into it—”</p><p>              “It’s fine, Gwen,” Merlin said, quiet. It was then that she noticed the bags under his eyes, built up from more than one missed night of sleep, and the puffiness that lingered. “I want to work. It’s like you said yesterday: I need something to do.”</p><p>Gwen opened her mouth, then closed it again. If this was Merlin’s way of coping with things, then that was that. “I’m glad you’ve found something. Just…don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” She tried for a reassuring smile.</p><p>              “I’ll be fine,” Merlin said dismissively. “Besides, it’s not like the royal prat can actually <em>do</em> anything when I’m gone. You know he can’t dress himself, right? Can’t even put his <em>shirt </em>on by himself. Like, a shirt, really? That’s just basic stuff.”</p><p>And then Merlin was off; complaining about Arthur was something he enjoyed immensely. Gwen couldn’t help but smile as they made their way to the kitchens. She wasn’t hearing anything new, but the way passing servants did a doubletake at Merlin’s rant was always funny.</p><p>And if pain would flicker across Merlin’s face after some of the stories, chased by a scary blankness, well…he was still healing.</p><p>Merlin was allowed time to mourn the death of his friend.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Merlin decides that grieving isn't something he can do if he wants to follow his destiny, and I cover an entire episode in about one paragraph because I couldn't think of an interesting way to spin it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so i found out that elyan's actually the older one out of him and gwen; although it wouldn't <em>massively</em> affect the story to change it, i'm not going to. just...so people know.<br/></p>
<p>in other news: i finally constructed a timeline for the story! that doesn't mean planning or anything about looking to the future, but rather that i now know when stuff happened and the gaps between events and all of that kind of thing, which really helps now that i'm thinking about druid festivals and stuff.<br/></p>
<p>anyway, sorry for the really long note, hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing that really yanked Merlin out of his grief, in the end, was an attempt on Arthur’s life.</p>
<p>Gwen had been immeasurably kind in using her afternoon off to try and give him something to do, and it had helped Merlin a lot, but it was more of a stop-gap measure than anything else.</p>
<p>And Merlin had had to tend to his lying skills too much since he arrived in Camelot; he could fake joy with minimal effort. He couldn’t stop the pain that rose when people said certain things, or he saw something that reminded him of Will, but he could tuck it away deep inside.</p>
<p>So it was a distracted Merlin who let a new cook hand him a bowl of soup for Arthur’s lunch, a week after they returned from Ealdor; it was a distracted Merlin who took it straight to Arthur’s room without a question.</p>
<p>It was Arthur who spotted the acid eating a hole through the metal bowl, dripping soup.</p>
<p>Merlin never said it was a <em>good</em> attempt on Arthur's life, okay? Just an attempt.</p>
<p>He shouted, drawing his sword, which startled Merlin enough to drop the bowl. The soup went flying, some splashing on his hands but most splattering on the floor.</p>
<p>Everything it touched started to hiss, carpet and flesh and even stone being eaten away.</p>
<p>Merlin cried out in pain and tried to scrub the acid off his hands onto his shirt; when that started to dissolve too, he ripped a chunk off and threw it away.</p>
<p>              “Well, shit,” he said, voice mild. “That’s not good.”</p>
<p>Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “You think?”</p>
<p>              “Sloppy,” Merlin continued, crouching down to inspect the upturned bowl as he continued to wipe the acid off his fingers, wincing. “Should have reinforced the bottom of the bowl, stop it from leaking.”</p>
<p>              “I’m more concerned about the <em>existence</em> of an attempt on my life than the care put into the planning of it,” Arthur said, then called for the guards and sent them to inform the king.</p>
<p>              “What did they think would happen to the spoon?” Merlin wondered aloud. “This acid feels like it would have eaten through it before it got to your mouth.”</p>
<p>              “Merlin?”</p>
<p>Merlin glanced up, meeting Arthur’s gaze. “Mm?”</p>
<p>              “Why have you ripped some of your shirt off?” The question was said evenly, but there was a note of annoyance behind it.</p>
<p>              “Had to get the acid off,” Merlin said absently.</p>
<p>              “You had to <em>what</em>?” Arthur’s rose in pitch and volume, and by the end of the question he was practically squeaking. “Ahem,” he coughed, cheeks flushing. “I mean, you had to what?”</p>
<p>              “Get the acid off,” Merlin repeated. He poked a finger at the eaten away carpet, where it had stopped steaming for the moment. A large hole had been eaten in the corner, and the stone under and next to it hadn’t fared much better, with an odd new pattern carved into it.</p>
<p>              “You had <em>acid </em>on your hands?”</p>
<p>Merlin nodded. “Yeah, some of the soup splashed when I dropped it. Because you startled me when you pulled your pointy stick out. Which, by the way, doesn’t do anything against acid. So…kind of pointless.”</p>
<p>              “You need to get medical help!” Arthur exclaimed. “Acid is bad!”</p>
<p>              “I can’t leave now,” Merlin said, confused. “What if this is only a part of their plan? What if someone charges through that door and tries to kill you?”</p>
<p>Arthur rolled his eyes. “Sometimes, Merlin, I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours. If someone were to charge through my door, what could <em>you </em>do about it? <em>Especially </em>with burnt fingers?”</p>
<p>              “I don’t really know if I’d call them burnt,” Merlin said, frowning. “Does acid burn?”</p>
<p>              “I don’t know,” Arthur said, “because <em>you’re the one with acid on your fingers</em>.”</p>
<p>Merlin thought the shouting was entirely unnecessary.</p>
<p>              “I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>              “Yes, you will be fine. <em>Once</em> you go to Gaius and he gives you some potion to drink or whatever.”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Merlin said, “Drinking a potion wouldn’t help acid burns.”</p>
<p>              “Well, you need to do <em>something</em>.” Arthur crossed the distance between him and Merlin in a two long strides, and grabbed Merlin’s hand to inspect it. “Go to Gaius,” he ordered again.</p>
<p>              “No,” Merlin repeated. Wasn’t this obvious? “What if someone attacks you?”</p>
<p>              “We’ve already covered this,” Arthur said, exasperated. “I can defend myself. Besides, you’re my servant, you shouldn’t be questioning my orders.”</p>
<p>Merlin laughed at that, but his mind was whirring.</p>
<p><em>I should have been focused. If this attempt had been any better thought out, it could have succeeded</em>.</p>
<p>Boots slammed on stone, and Merlin twisted just as Uther threw the doors open, his coat swishing dramatically as he stormed in. “What is going on here?”</p>
<p>Arthur straightened, like he always did when he saw his father, and Merlin did his best to melt into the background.</p>
<p>Truth be told, Uther Pendragon <em>terrified</em> him. Every time he was near the king, his senses cranked up to eleven and he couldn’t concentrate properly; all he could think about was what Uther would do to him if he ever found out about Merlin’s magic.</p>
<p>Because it would be so much worse than an impersonal sorcerer – it would be a man he had trusted with his son’s life. And Uther wasn’t the kind of person who’d respond well to that. There were a lot of ways to kill a sorcerer, and some were much worse than others.</p>
<p>              “Someone tried to kill me,” Arthur said, voice crisp and sharp. His hand was resting on the pommel of his sword, and doing his best not show his earlier concern about Merlin’s injured hand.</p>
<p>Which—ouch, now that Merlin had allowed himself time to think about it, the acid had really done a number on his flesh. Even though he’d wiped most of it off, his skin was red and angry and <em>aching</em> like he’d just stuck his hand in a fire.</p>
<p>              “Sloppily,” Arthur continued, “and without much damage done.”</p>
<p>              “I don’t care,” Uther snapped, his face twisting into something that made Merlin <em>cold</em>. “Find them. Alive or dead, I don’t care. Do you know who they were?”</p>
<p>              “I do not,” Arthur said. “My servant brought me the food.”</p>
<p>Uther’s gaze cut to Merlin, and he froze as the full force of that fury was directed at him. “Did you do this, boy?” he asked, voice soft steel.</p>
<p>              “N-no!” Merlin managed to stammer out. “I would never—”</p>
<p>              “Merlin isn’t intelligent enough to plan something like this out.” Arthur dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.</p>
<p>              “Did you not say that this was sloppy and ill-thought out?”</p>
<p>Arthur blinked. “Well—yes, but. He was injured by it too.”</p>
<p>              “Possibly a diversion, to throw us off the scent.” Uther moved closer, his eyes narrowing.</p>
<p>Merlin resisted the urge to take a step back, because that would probably make him look guiltier. “No, sire. I would never hurt my master.”</p>
<p>              “He’s proven his loyalty before,” Arthur cut in, sharper, as he stepped in between the two of them. “But perhaps he knows who last handled the food?”</p>
<p>Both Pendragons focused on Merlin then, and it would be so, so easy to flinch; to run; to throw himself out of a window, and escape. He did none of those things.</p>
<p>              “Well, boy? We don’t have all day.”</p>
<p>              “Sorry,” Merlin said. “I—the cook was new? I think. I didn’t recognise him, and I know most of the cooks by sight, at least. I wasn’t paying that much attention to his appearance, but—”</p>
<p>              “For God’s sake,” Uther snapped. He stomped a few steps away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you know who he was or not?”</p>
<p>              “No, sire,” Merlin said. “But,” he added when Uther made a frustrated noise, “someone else might? I can’t have been the only person who saw a stranger in the kitchens.”</p>
<p>              “That’s a lead,” Arthur told Uther.</p>
<p>“We have everyone in the kitchens questioned,” Uther said, then whirled to the guards who’d followed him there. “You! Organise a search for this would-be-assassin. I want him <em>found</em>.”</p>
<p>Both guards left the room, racing to comply with their king’s order, and Uther followed them out, his coat once again swishing. It still wasn’t as dramatic as Arthur’s coat in Merlin’s opinion.</p>
<p>              “Get that hand looked at,” Arthur hissed to his servant before hurrying to catch up to his father.</p>
<p>Finally, Merlin let himself slump against the wall, breathing for what felt like the first time since Uther had arrived; his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. “<em>Fuck</em>.”</p>
<p>He’d been so caught up in his grief that Arthur could have been killed. This couldn’t happen again.</p>
<p>Could. Not. Happen. Again.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Morgana burst into Gaius’ room, closely followed by Gwen, with her dress flaring out after her.</p>
<p>              “Is Merlin here?” she demanded.</p>
<p>              “Yep,” Merlin said, poking his head out from behind his uncle, and Gwen’s relief rung through her very bones.</p>
<p>              “We were informed of the assassination attempt, and all Uther said of you was that ‘Arthur’s manservant was injured in the attack.’” Morgana shook her head, and crossed the room to inspect Merlin more closely.</p>
<p>Gwen took a seat on the medical bed, next to Merlin. “Are you okay?” she asked, gentle.</p>
<p>She’d been there when Uther had made his announcement, at the very brief ‘trial’ of the man who’d tried to kill Arthur, and hearing that Merlin had been hurt had struck fear in her heart.</p>
<p>              “I’m fine,” Merlin said, sounding utterly exasperated.</p>
<p>              “You are not fine,” Gaius corrected in the tone of someone who’d already had to say it more than once. “You will be fine, in a week, once your hands have healed.”</p>
<p>              “Your hands?” Morgana repeated, worry clear in the crease of her forehead and the downturn of her mouth. “What happened?”</p>
<p>              “Just a little bit of soup spilled on them,” Merlin said, waving of said hands dismissively; it was bandaged, and an odd smell emanated from it.</p>
<p>Gaius coughed rather pointedly, and Merlin winced before adding:</p>
<p>              “And that soup may…have had, you know, just a little bit of...acid in it.”</p>
<p>              “<em>Acid</em>!” Gwen couldn’t stop her exclamation, her voice squeaking, and flushed when Gaius raised an eyebrow at her. She didn’t care though; acid was <em>bad</em>. “Oh, no, Merlin, did it hurt badly?”</p>
<p>              “Barely felt it,” Merlin assured her.</p>
<p>Gaius gave him another pointed look.</p>
<p>              “Well,” he amended. “I felt it once everything had caught up with me. But, really. It’s <em>acid</em>. All things considered, I’ve done very well.”</p>
<p>              “Has he?” Morgana asked, directing the question to Gaius.</p>
<p>The physician shrugged. “It could be far worse. The acid was a nasty one, but the soup diluted it enough that Merlin’s burns should heal soon as long as he takes good care of them.”</p>
<p>              “What constitutes taking good care of them?” Morgana’s eyes narrowed, and the question, although asked of Gaius, was clearly meant for Merlin.</p>
<p>Next to Gwen, Merlin flushed, looking down at bandages wrapped around his hands. Gwen knocked her knee against his companionably.</p>
<p>              “Make sure to listen,” she murmured. “Morgana might skin you alive if you don’t take good care of yourself.”</p>
<p>              “Don’t be ridiculous Guinevere,” Morgana snapped, but there was a glint in her eyes that Gwen knew all too well. “Skinning is far too messy. A poison slipped in his food would render his unconscious, and allow us to treat him until his wounds have healed.”</p>
<p>              “As much as that would be the only way to get Merlin to sit still,” Gaius said, “I’m afraid I can’t approve of that. Proper treatment, and care, from Merlin means cleaning the wounds out every morning and evening when he changes the bandages. They should have a fresh lining of the healing paste I made. If he doesn’t do that, he may develop an infection.”</p>
<p>              “Alright,” Morgana said. “Thank you, Gaius, I will ensure that Merlin does all of that.” She gave Merlin a sharp look. “You <em>will</em> do all of that.”</p>
<p>              “It’ll be okay,” he said quietly, staring down at his hands. “Don’t worry about me.”</p>
<p>              “<em>Of</em> <em>course</em> we’re worrying about you,” Gwen said, equally quiet. “We’re your friends.”</p>
<p>Merlin didn’t say anything for a moment, then nudged Gwen’s knee back. He looked up and gave her a small smile. “Thank you.” His gaze slid to Morgana. “Both of you.”</p>
<p>              “You’re very welcome,” Morgana said primly. “Now, did you hear the news?”</p>
<p>Distantly, Gwen registered that Gaius was moving away, muttering something about young people.</p>
<p>Straightening, his eyes gleaming with new interest, Merlin asked, “What news?”</p>
<p>              “They found the person who tried to kill Arthur,” Gwen said. “A professional, hired by—”</p>
<p>              “Can I tell him?” Morgana cut in, pleading her with wide eyes.</p>
<p>Gwen couldn’t help her smile at her old friend’s want to share gossip. “Of course, milady.”</p>
<p>              “Lady Hargravee hired him,” Morgana said, utterly full of glee. “She was furious that Uther refused her offer of marriage with Arthur, so decided to try and <em>kill </em>him.”</p>
<p>Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Hargravee the one who’s, like sixty?”</p>
<p>              “Mm-hm,” Morgana nodded, then giggled. “Arthur’s <em>mortified</em>.”</p>
<p>              “I think anyone would be,” Gwen said. “Don’t you remember what the assassin said?”</p>
<p>Merlin’s head swung between the two of them. “What? What did the assassin say?”</p>
<p>              “Lady Hargravee had given him a piece of parchment, with a message to read out if he was captured,” Gwen said, wincing at the memory. “It was…embarrassing.”</p>
<p>              “It was <em>hilarious</em>,” Morgana disagreed. “‘My dearest Arthur, with eyes that gleam the blue of my best sapphire and hair so golden it must have been woven by the gods themselves.’”</p>
<p>Merlin burst out laughing. “That <em>is </em>hilarious,” he wheezed out.</p>
<p>              “You should have seen his <em>face</em>. It was <em>bright red</em>.”</p>
<p>Merlin managed to stop laughing just long enough to ask, “As red as the ruby in Lady Hargravee’s best necklace?”</p>
<p>The two of them collapsed into laughter again, and even though she felt bad about it, Gwen couldn’t suppress her own giggles, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep it down.</p>
<p>              “She tried to have him murdered,” Gwen tried to reprimand them, but her laughter sort of undercut the severity of the words.</p>
<p>              “<em>That</em>,” Morgana said, “is <em>so much worse</em>.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin stuck by Arthur’s side as much as possible for the next week, while the Knights of Camelot searched the land for Lady Hargravee; Arthur rolled his eyes on a regular basis, making fun of Merlin thinking he could protect him.</p>
<p>Especially with bandaged hands.</p>
<p>Only when Hargravee was caught did Merlin relax, letting Arthur out of sight for the first time at Hargravee’s execution. He did not like that she tried to kill Arthur, and for such terrible reasons, but he equally did not like watching people die.</p>
<p>But Arthur later told him that the lady had wept and begged and plead with Uther for another chance; the king’s face had been stone.</p>
<p>Arthur said that such was a good quality in a king; an admirable quality. But Merlin had known Arthur for seven months, and knew that his hesitation showed he wasn’t sure.</p>
<p>              “Anyway,” Arthur said, “the crime of injuring you was enough to warrant execution.”</p>
<p>That was…surprisingly sweet.</p>
<p>              “It’s freaked you out, and now I’ve had to deal with the worst servant in the kingdom for a week solid.”</p>
<p>And there it was.</p>
<p>              “Don’t worry, sire,” Merlin told him. “I’m equally annoyed; I’ve had to deal with this rude prat for a whole week. Can you believe it?”</p>
<p>He darted out of the room, chortling, just before a metal vase clattered against the wall where he’d been standing.</p>
<p>              “<em>Merlin</em>!” Arthur’s voice rang through the halls.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>             </p>
<p>              “Gwen?” Merlin called, knocking on the door to Morgana’s chambers.</p>
<p>Footsteps sounded on the stone inside, and hushed voices, and Merlin reread the letter in his hands while he waited for the door to open.</p>
<p>It took a few minutes, but then the lock clicked, and Merlin looked up to see Gwen’s smiling face.</p>
<p>              “Merlin! What brings you here?”</p>
<p>              “I’m writing my letter to Lancelot,” Merlin said.</p>
<p>              “I didn’t know you did that,” Gwen said, her eyebrows rising.</p>
<p>Merlin nodded. “Yeah, every month. In the last one, he asked how you were doing so I figured I’d ask if you wanted to say anything to him.”</p>
<p>              “Oh.” Gwen blinked. “That’s very kind of you.”</p>
<p>              “Is it?” Merlin asked, taken aback. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I’ve written the rest of the letter, and I need to send it today, so you can just…” He gestured to the paper. “Write something at the end. I’ve left you some space.”</p>
<p>Gwen held her hand out, and Merlin handed over the letter. She leafed through the pages, her eyebrows rising.</p>
<p>              “This is…a lot.”</p>
<p>              “How much?” Morgana asked, finally poking her head out from behind the screen and moving closer.</p>
<p>              “Nine pages,” Gwen answered, like that was something surprising. “Double-sided.”</p>
<p>Morgana arched a brow, her lips curving up. “Is there something you want to tell us, Merlin?”</p>
<p>              “What do you mean?” Merlin asked, confused.</p>
<p>              “Don’t listen to her,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes, then handed the letter back to Merlin. “You should tell him that I hope he’s doing well, and that he should come back to visit.”</p>
<p>              “Don’t you want to write it yourself?” Merlin’s brow furrowed.</p>
<p>Gwen flushed, and behind her Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be obtuse, Merlin.”</p>
<p>              “What do you—” Merlin started to ask, only to stop when something registered in his head. “Oh. Shit, sorry, Gwen, I didn’t think it through.”</p>
<p>              “It’s alright,” Gwen said, but her smile seemed a little more fixed now. “I can read when I’m given enough time, but writing’s a struggle.”</p>
<p>              “Doesn’t Camelot have somewhere you could have learnt that?”</p>
<p>Gwen shook her head. “I only learnt from my mother, and then Morgana’s helped more in the last ten years, but…no.”</p>
<p>              “That’s <em>weird</em>,” Merlin said. “I guess it’s the same in Ealdor. I only learned cause of my mother.”</p>
<p>              “I’ve learned that such a thing is common among those not of noble birth,” Morgana agreed. “Gwen is unusual, even, for her ability to read.”</p>
<p>              “Can you just…write what I said in your letter?” Gwen said, flushing even darker as she unsubtly tried to change the conversation.</p>
<p>Which…fair. Merlin wouldn’t want people talking about things he couldn’t do, like he wasn’t even there.</p>
<p>              “Of course.” Merlin winced. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>              “No problem.”</p>
<p>              “I’ll see you both later,” he added, turning to leave.</p>
<p>Morgana called out, “Wait just one second!” before he could start down the stairs.</p>
<p>Stilling, Merlin wondered what she wanted to say; a moment later, when she slipped past Gwen and picked up his hand, he knew.</p>
<p>              “You have scars,” Morgana said, a note of disapproval to her voice.</p>
<p>              “Gaius said I did everything right,” Merlin said quickly. “And that scars were expected, considering.”</p>
<p>Morgana’s eyes narrowed, and she studied his face for a minute – a deeply uncomfortable experience, because it felt like she was looking into his very soul – and then let go of his hand. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>Letting out a held breath, Merlin nodded. “I do. Say so, that is.”</p>
<p>              “Good.” Morgana stepped back with a sharp movement. “Are you working today?”</p>
<p>Merlin grinned. “No, Arthur gave me the day off because I’ve been ‘hovering like a mother hen’ ever since the attempt on his life. Apparently two weeks is his limit.”</p>
<p>              “You’ve got the day off and you’re using it to write a letter?” Morgana asked, a little incredulous.</p>
<p>              “Sometimes,” Gwen said, to her mistress who did not have a job, “it’s just nice to do nothing.”</p>
<p>Nodding his agreement, Merlin added, “I <em>am </em>going to go down to the town later, but I decided to have a slow morning.”</p>
<p>              “That sounds nice,” Gwen said, smiling at him. “I hope you enjoy yourself.”</p>
<p>              “Thanks.” Merlin flashed her a grin before starting back down the stairs.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur decided to go out hunting the next day, and of course dragged Merlin along with him and the two Knights. Merlin started the trip irritated; he ended it grieving a dead unicorn.</p>
<p>Yeah…not one of the best days of his life. Also, Arthur had shot it when he thought it was just a horse, before he saw the horn. Why would he want to kill a horse?</p>
<p>Macho men <em>confused</em> Merlin immensely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The ensuing famine was horrible, for everyone, and Merlin couldn’t help but be relieved that his mother didn’t live in Camelot, and Lancelot was currently making his way through Caerleon, and that druids knew how to be self-sufficient so Mordred would be fine too.</p>
<p>Not that it wasn’t awful to be living ration to ration, and drinking old bath water, and watching hundreds of people slowly starve to death. But—Merlin could breathe a little easier, knowing at least some of the people dear to him were safe.</p>
<p>Luckily, everything turned out fine in the end, and things quickly returned to normal after there was yet another ‘drinking poison’ situation. Merlin <em>really </em>didn’t know how they kept ending up in that position.</p>
<p>He supposed that he and Arthur were even on that front now, at least.</p>
<p>They’d each drunk poison for the other. Not a claim most friends could make.</p>
<p>After the famine ended, and the crops all grew to their full height overnight, things quickly returned to normal and the sense of panic that had been gripping the kingdom faded.</p>
<p>Uther proclaimed that sorcery had once again tried to fight Camelot and failed; Merlin couldn’t help but feel hopeful that Arthur was less prejudiced than his father, because he didn’t say anything more on it, just quietly buried the unicorn horn.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen was startled to hear knocking on her door in the middle of the night; when she got up, assuring her sleepy father that she could deal with whoever it was, she was even more startled to find Merlin.</p>
<p>              “I need your help,” he said.</p>
<p>He was out-of-breath, panting like he’d run there, and his shirt was wrinkled; he wasn’t wearing his usual neckerchief or jacket.</p>
<p>              “What’s wrong?” Gwen asked, concerned. She rubbed at the sleep in her eyes.</p>
<p>              “Nothing yet,” Merlin said, “but I need your help.”</p>
<p>Gwen hesitated, because agreeing to something without any details could be a bad idea especially when she was only half-awake, but…this was Merlin. She trusted him with her life, and then some. “Of course I’ll help.”</p>
<p>              “Thank the gods,” Merlin breathed, sagging against the doorframe. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it alone, but two people are always better than one.”</p>
<p>              “…Do what?”</p>
<p>              “Move the second bed into my room,” Merlin said, like it was obvious. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get it up through the town by myself, but I think I can manage if you’re helping.”</p>
<p>              “Merlin, I—”</p>
<p>              “It’s not a big bed,” Merlin hurried to add. Because <em>that </em>was her concern here. “We can lift it, the two of us.”</p>
<p>              “Merlin,” Gwen said firmly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>              “I’m asking for your help in moving the second bed into my room,” Merlin said, slowly. Confusion flickered across his face.</p>
<p><em>That makes two of us</em>.</p>
<p>              “Why is there going to be a second bed in your room?” Gwen asked, then yawned.</p>
<p>Merlin gave her a blank look. “For Mordred.”</p>
<p>              “For Mordred,” Gwen repeated, before her brain caught up with the words and she took a step back, her eyes widening as her mouth dropped open. “<em>Mordred?!</em>”</p>
<p>Wincing at her volume, Merlin nodded. “Yeah…Mordred? What, did you think I was going to sleep on the floor for another month and a half?”</p>
<p>              “Mordred.” Gwen was very, very much stuck on that point, and it was far, far too late/early for this. “Merlin, what do you mean by <em>Mordred</em>?”</p>
<p>              “I mean Mordred?” Merlin said, and he did not have the right to look as confused as he did, considering that he was being the confusing one. “You know, the boy we said was my cousin?”</p>
<p>Gwen took a deep breath in, then out, then said very, very calmly, “Merlin, I know who Mordred is.”</p>
<p>              “Cool.” Merlin’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I was worried you’d somehow forgotten him.”</p>
<p>              “No, I haven’t forgotten Mordred.”</p>
<p>              “Then what bit are you stuck on?” Merlin asked, tilting his head to one side.</p>
<p>Sighing, Gwen said, “Everything else. Merlin, Mordred’s back with his people and he’s safe and happy.”</p>
<p>              “Yeah, but he’s coming back next week,” Merlin said.</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>              “What?”</p>
<p>              “He’s coming back the day after tomorrow,” Merlin repeated. “I’ve <em>told</em> you this. I got the message two—no, three days ago.”</p>
<p>Gwen stared at him.</p>
<p>              “Gwen? Are you alright?”</p>
<p>She hit him on the arm, hard.</p>
<p>              “Ow!” Merlin yelped, pulling back. “What was that for?”</p>
<p>              “<em>Mordred’s coming back</em>?”</p>
<p>Merlin frowned but nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I need the bed, you see—”</p>
<p>              “But—he wasn’t going to come back.”</p>
<p>              “Yeah, he was,” Merlin said. “Remember? The druids said he could if he wanted to, and he said he did want to.”</p>
<p>This boy was—infuriating. Gwen had no idea how she’d managed seven and a half months of…<em>this</em>.</p>
<p>              “I didn’t meet the druids,” she said, trying to keep the shock and delight and anger from her voice and face. “That was <em>you,</em> Merlin.”</p>
<p>              “<em>Yeah</em>,” Merlin said, “but I—oh <em>shit</em>!”</p>
<p>And he’d finally realised.</p>
<p>              “I <em>knew </em>there was something I forgot!”</p>
<p>              “How long have you known that we were going to see Mordred again?” Gwen asked, folding her arms across her chest.</p>
<p>Merlin winced, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>              “Since you returned Mordred to the druids,” Gwen continued, answering her own question. “So two months.”</p>
<p>              “Sorry.”</p>
<p>              “I’m not angry,” Gwen said.</p>
<p>A raised eyebrow was Merlin’s only response.</p>
<p>              “Okay, I’m not going to be angry once the sun comes up,” Gwen amended. “But here’s a question: does <em>Morgana </em>know?”</p>
<p>Gwen had figured that her mistress didn’t, else she would have been gushing for the last week; Merlin clearly <em>hadn’t </em>connected those dots, because he went sheet white.</p>
<p>              “Oh, no.”</p>
<p>It was barely a whisper, and then Merlin <em>sprinted</em> off.</p>
<p>Gwen allowed herself a smile, glad that they'd made Mordred feel welcome enough to return, and then moved back inside her house, closing the door behind her.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>           </p>
<p>              “What was all that about last night?” Gwen’s father asked blearily the next morning, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.</p>
<p>              “Merlin’s cousin’s visiting again,” Gwen answered.</p>
<p>Something warm bloomed in her chest, and her smile grew. It was like she’d told Merlin: now that the sun had risen, and she was properly awake, all her anger had faded into joy.</p>
<p>              “He’s…Mordred, right?”</p>
<p>Gwen nodded, scooping some porridge into a bowl. “That’s him.”</p>
<p>              “Well, I’m happy for you,” Gwen’s father said. “Oh, that reminds me: I won’t be back for supper.”</p>
<p>Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”</p>
<p>              “Oh, you know,” Gwen’s father said, a lopsided grin appearing on his face at his intentional vagueness. He’d always loved pretending to be mysterious. “It’s a surprise.”</p>
<p>              “Hmm,” Gwen said, playing along. “Is it now?”</p>
<p>He laughed, and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of her head. Gwen pulled him closer, into a hug.</p>
<p>              “I’ll make something for you anyway,” she decided once he’d pulled back.</p>
<p>As Gwen’s father shook his head as he pulled his cloak on. “I’m going to be very late.”</p>
<p>              “Something that can be eaten cold,” Gwen said. “I don’t want you to go hungry. It’s not healthy, not with how recent the famine was.”</p>
<p>              “Very well,” Gwen’s father sighed. “You’re too good to me, Gwen.”</p>
<p>              “I’m exactly as good as I need to be.”</p>
<p>Laughing again, he said goodbye and then walked out of the front door.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>do i know anything about acids? no. have i written about them anyway? yes.<br/></p>
<p>i only realised after i wrote it, that this chapter takes place over about a month, and then i have some other chapters (of the same length) that take place over the course of half a day.<br/>eh, i'm sure it's fine</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A terrible, terrible thing happens just as Mordred returns.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>poor gwen :(<br/>thank you for the lovely comments! even if i don't reply, because i don't know what to say, please know that getting one of those emails makes my day!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              “I take it Morgana’s not talking to you, then,” Gwen said, amused as she watched Merlin stop at the bottom of the stairs to Morgana’s room.</p><p>Merlin winced. “I went straight to her, and apologised like a hundred times, but—no. You’re right.”</p><p>              “She’ll come around the moment Mordred arrives,” Gwen said. “Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>              “I’m not sure how accurate that is,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “Out of the two of us,” Gwen asked, “who has served Lady Morgana for ten years? And who has <em>not</em>?”</p><p>              “You have,” Merlin had to admit, looking down at his twisting hands.</p><p>Pity swelled up in Gwen, washing away some of her amusement. “She <em>will</em> come around, don’t worry.”</p><p>              “Mm,” Merlin said, pulling a face, and then he paused. “Is that a new dress?”</p><p>Gwen laughed, the sound startled out of her. “It is! My father bought it for me, he left it out on my bed this morning. Do you like it?” She swished the skirts, admiring the soft fabric.</p><p>              “It’s beautiful,” Merlin said, and he looked and sounded honest.</p><p>Sometimes, Gwen was glad to have him as a friend. She twirled, watching the skirts flutter out. With the bright colours, she thought she looked a little bit like a flower.</p><p>And then: “I’m sure Lancelot would love to see you in it.”</p><p>She whacked him, and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she whacked him again when her cheeks warmed.</p><p>              “Merlin!”</p><p>Merlin just threw his head back and <em>laughed</em>. It attracted the attention of passers-by, because they were at the bottom of Morgana’s stairs and therefore in a hallway, but Merlin didn’t seem to care.</p><p>              “You,” she hissed, “are talking rubbish.”</p><p>              “Am I?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not <em>blind </em>Gwen, anyone with any sense could see that you liked him. And, until I have someone else to tease you about, that’s who I’m going to have to stick with. Unless there’s someone else?”</p><p>Gwen flushed even darker, and—no. She wasn’t going to go there. “No…”</p><p>              “Exactly,” Merlin said, grinning. He glanced up the stairs, behind Gwen. “And now I must take my leave, else your mistress will eviscerate me for daring to enter her presence.”</p><p>              “I’m sure she wouldn’t go quite that far,” Gwen laughed.</p><p>Merlin grimaced. “You weren’t there.”</p><p>              “And I am glad for that,” Gwen told him, still grinning.</p><p>The clocktower bell rang distantly, chiming four.</p><p>              “Also, my own master’s going to kill me too,” Merlin said. “Shit!”</p><p>With that, he dashed off, and Gwen watched him go with an amused smile on her face as he darted through the flow of servants and knights. He crashed into more than one person, moving on with nothing more than an apology shouted over his shoulder.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Arthur got Merlin stuck scrubbing the floors of his room late that night, after he was so late to training earlier that it was basically over by the time he arrived.</p><p>And scrubbing Arthur’s floors was never fun, because the prince both expected near-perfection <em>and </em>had a terrible habit of tracking dirt in. Meaning the floors were filthy and could take hours to clean.</p><p>None of this was especially unusual; Merlin had to stay late once or twice a fortnight, and he’d have to work until it was done.</p><p>What <em>was </em>unusual was the guard bursting in – getting even more dirt on a patch that Merlin had <em>just cleaned, gods damn it</em> – and shouting that the Prince was needed.</p><p>              “Hush,” Merlin said, getting to his feet and drying his wet hands on the front of his shirt. “What do you need?”</p><p>              “Uh…” The guard stared at him for a moment, confused, before saying, “The Prince.”</p><p>              “I’ll wake him up,” Merlin said. “He’s difficult, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”</p><p>With that, he dropped his sopping washcloth in the bucket of water he’d only kept warm with spell after spell, and pushed through the closed curtains to see Arthur shifting. He’d clearly been disturbed by the guard bursting in, but enough to wake.</p><p>Merlin hadn’t been lying when he said that waking Arthur was an art.</p><p>              “Wake up, you great clotpole!” Merlin shouted as loudly as he could.</p><p>Distantly, he saw the guard jump about in the air through the crack in the curtain; more importantly, Arthur jerked awake.</p><p>Jumping to his feet, immediately grabbing for the knife on his beside table and ending up brandishing a candlestick instead, Arthur could be dangerous when woken.</p><p>Well, dangerous and embarrassed.</p><p>              “Merlin!” Arthur shouted, almost as loudly as Merlin had a few moments before. “What on earth are you doing?”</p><p>Merlin just shrugged, fairly unconcerned with whatever was happening. It was probably some noble who’d decided they desperately needed something from Uther, and were demanding it immediately; Uther would send Arthur in his place. It had happened before.</p><p>              “Someone wants you.”</p><p>              “<em>Wants </em>me?” Arthur repeated, looking utterly bewildered. The effect was helped by his hair sticking in every direction.</p><p>In his sleepy state, Merlin immediately realised that his master had misunderstood him.</p><p>              “Not like <em>that</em>, you prat,” Merlin laughed.</p><p>Arthur bristled. “People <em>do</em> want me like that. <em>Lots </em>of people want me like that. Remember Lady Hargravee?”</p><p>              “That,” Merlin said, flat and dry and full of judgement, “is the example you’re going for?”</p><p>              “N-not just her.” Arthur flushed. “Other people want me too.”</p><p>              “If Hargravee was your ace in the hole, then you’re fucked,” Merlin said. Then he huffed a laugh at his choice of words. “Or rather, you’re <em>not </em>fucked.”</p><p>Arthur <em>lunged </em>for him, but Merlin managed to dart out of the way; Arthur barely stopped himself from tumbling to the floor, still sleep-addled, and instead burst through the curtain and got a foot caught in the bucket of water, getting himself soaked in the process.</p><p>Right in front of the guard.</p><p>Oh. Right. Merlin had forgotten about that whole thing.</p><p>              “My lord,” the guard said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “I—we—you—”</p><p>It was then that Merlin realised Arthur wasn’t wearing a shirt.</p><p>              “Take your time,” Merlin advised the guard. “I know he’s not nearly as impressive as he likes to pretend, but—”</p><p>Arthur did manage to hit him this time, landing a swat on the back of his head that had Merlin ducking away, a grin on his face.</p><p>              “Shut it, Merlin,” the prince growled, low like he was angry; Merlin knew from his flush that he was embarrassed. “What’s going on?” he asked the guard, crossing his arms and pretending that he wasn’t soaking wet and only half-dressed.</p><p>Merlin was reminded of the steamy romance novels he’d found tucked away in Morgana’s room, and remembered one of the maids gushing about how Arthur was exactly like one of the protagonists. Then he thought of Arthur’s <em>reaction </em>to being compared to them, and couldn’t help his laugh.</p><p>              “Something you’d like to share with rest of us, Merlin?” Arthur asked, arching an eyebrow and doing his best to look dignified.</p><p>Merlin laughed again. “Nah, I don’t think so.”</p><p>              “Then shut up.”</p><p>Arthur turned back to the guard. “Why am I needed?”</p><p>The guard glanced between the two of them, then stammered out, “Someone thinks they saw a sorcerer in town, matches the description of a dangerous one.”</p><p>Every ounce of levity vanished from Arthur’s face and posture, and he straightened like he did when his father entered the room. “I will dress and be there at once. Tell them I am on my way.”</p><p>              “Yes, sire.” The guard bowed before striding out, looking relieved to be leaving.</p><p>              “Dress me, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, “and then go straight home. I don’t want you wandering around when there’s a dangerous sorcerer about.”</p><p><em>I’d be fine</em>, Merlin thought.</p><p>He didn’t say that. He said, “Yes, sire.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin thought little more of the sorcerer who had made the mistake of venturing into Camelot, only to wish them good luck in escaping and then wonder if it was them who was using powerful enough magic that he sensed it, until Gwen burst into Gaius’ chambers the next morning.</p><p>He was instantly alert, stiffening. It was supposed to be a good day, because Mordred was arriving in the afternoon, but this—</p><p>This wasn’t good. Not if he went by the tears streaking down Gwen’s face.</p><p>              “What’s wrong?” Gaius asked, turning away from his bubbling potion to check on her.</p><p>              “It’s my father,” Gwen cried, “he’s been arrested. They say he was making weapons for a sorcerer. They’re charging him with <em>treason</em>!”</p><p>              “No!” Merlin couldn’t <em>believe </em>it. Was it the same sorcerer as yesterday evening, who he’d just let Arthur chase out into the night?</p><p>Gwen nodded, scrubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands. “Yes, he’s being given a trial, but—”</p><p>              “No one makes it out of those trials innocent,” Gaius finished, nodding.</p><p>              “No,” Gwen said, barely a whisper. More tears slipped down her cheeks. “They don’t.”</p><p>Merlin held his arms out for a hug, and Gwen threw herself against him, squeezing tight as a vice. She pressed her face into his shoulder, and his tunic soon grew wet with tears.</p><p>              “We—we’ll do everything we can,” Merlin murmured. “Starting with trying to find this sorcerer, okay?”</p><p>Behind Gwen, Gaius nodded and mouthed ‘I’ll try and find out what’s going happening.’</p><p>Merlin nodded, and Gaius bustled out of the room, leaving Merlin to comfort his distressed friend.</p><p>              “It’ll be okay.”</p><p>He didn’t know if he believed that, because he’d seen what Uther did to people who consorted with sorcerers, but he didn’t know what else to say.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Mordred wasn’t sure why Emrys was late, he just knew that he was.</p><p>They had agreed to meet at three, right? He hadn’t misread the letter?</p><p>No, he couldn’t have, because he’d asked Iseldir to read it too, and he’d said the same thing: the gates of Camelot at three o’clock.</p><p>Mordred supposed that there may not be some other reason behind it; Emrys may have just been late. Prince Arthur had complained about it enough last time Mordred had been here.</p><p>But…he had wanted Emrys to be on time. Standing by the gates, in full view of everyone who passed by, wasn’t the most comfortable feeling for a druid-in-hiding.</p><p>Except—there was a ripple in magic, like something vast and unimaginable approaching, and Mordred kept scanning the crowd because <em>surely </em>that was Emrys and—</p><p>It was.</p><p><em>Thank the gods</em>.</p><p>              “Mordred!” Emrys shouted, sprinting the last stretch from the market and skidding to a stop a few metres away, mud splattering up his legs. “I’m so sorry I’m late, I was so excited this morning, but then shit—sorry, stuff—came up, and I got so distracted and—you don’t need to hear this, the point is that I’m sorry.”</p><p>The words tumbled out of Emrys’ mouth, barely discernible as coherent speech, and Mordred frowned as he tried to understand what was being said.</p><p>              “What?”</p><p>Emrys sighed, taking a deep breath in and then out, and then said more slowly, “I got distracted. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Mordred gave him a small smile. Because…this was Emrys. “It’s alright.”</p><p>              “No, it’s not,” Emrys said. “The thing that distracted me may have been important, but I told you I’d be here and that’s more important. So…you know. Sorry.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said. “Okay.” He paused, then asked, “What distracted you?”</p><p>Emrys winced. “I’ll tell you on the way up to the castle. I…don’t want to be gone for too long.”</p><p>
  <em>What was going on?</em>
</p><p>              “Is this your bag?” Emrys continued, gesturing to the satchel Mordred had dropped at his feet.</p><p>Mordred nodded, and Emrys leaned down and scooped it up before slinging it over one shoulder with little effort. Jealousy surged through Mordred for a brief moment; he’d been struggling with the weight of the bag, and here was Emrys lifting it so easily.</p><p>But…it was <em>Emrys</em>. Of course he could do things easily.</p><p>It was then that he realised Emrys had already started through the town, and Mordred hurried to catch up to him.</p><p>              “What distracted you?” he asked again, gazing up at Emrys with wide eyes.</p><p>Emrys sighed again, and it was very deep and weary, like the grown-up druids always did when Mordred or one of the others asked about the purge.</p><p>              “Gwen’s very upset.”</p><p>Mordred straightened. He liked Gwen, a lot, and she shouldn’t be getting <em>upset</em>.</p><p>              “Her father’s in the dungeons.”</p><p>What<em>?</em></p><p>              “He’s been charged with making weapons for a sorcerer.”</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>              “His trial’s tomorrow, but…” Emrys trailed off, looking down at the ground. His fingers slowly ran down the leather strap of Mordred’s bag, rubbing at it absently.</p><p>              “B-but. Gwen’s father can’t have done anything,” Mordred stammered out.</p><p>There was a pitying look on Emrys’ face, one Mordred didn’t like because it meant things were somehow worse than he thought. “Uther doesn’t care. He was found with a known and dangerous sorcerer, so he must have been up to something dodgy.”</p><p>              “You don’t believe that, right?” Mordred asked, quiet.</p><p>Emrys’ eyes widened. “Of course not! But—that’s what the king thinks, and he’s the one who makes the judgement.”</p><p>              “Oh.”</p><p>This was…not how Mordred had expected his return to be. All the anticipation and delight and excitement that had been growing and growing for the last two weeks had crumbled into a pit in his stomach, leaving only pain and despair.</p><p>              “We’re working on it,” Emrys told him.</p><p>Something of a smile grew on his face, and Emrys stopped where he was; Mordred stopped too, and then Emrys was crouched down in front of him, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder.</p><p>For just a moment, Emrys’ magic was released into the bright light of the day, and Mordred let out a barely audible sigh as it stroked soothingly at his air.</p><p>               “You didn’t think we’d just let Gwen’s father die, did you?” Emrys asked, a teasing tone to his voice.</p><p>Mordred squinted at him. Was this just another grown-up, faking cheerfulness to try and comfort Mordred?</p><p>Well, it wasn’t working if it was. Emrys wasn’t great at this whole ‘comforting’ business. But—Mordred supposed he wasn’t technically an adult yet. Even if seventeen felt <em>ancient</em>, Emrys still had another four years before he came of age.</p><p>              “No,” Mordred said, slow, “I didn’t.”</p><p>Something relieved crossed Emrys’ face, and triumph flickered through Mordred before more of his good feelings crumbled away, tumbling down into the gaping hole in his stomach.</p><p><em>Not good, not good, not good</em>.</p><p>              “I want to see Gwen,” Mordred blurted out, biting his lip as he stared down at his hands.</p><p>When he glanced up again, Emrys’ face had softened. “She wants to see you too. Just—a warning, she’s not in a good place right now.”</p><p>              “Okay,” Mordred said. “I can hug her.”</p><p>              “She’ll like that,” Emrys said, gentle. They stayed there for a moment later, then Emrys pushed to his feet again. “Come on, it’s not far to the castle.”</p><p>Mordred gave him a judgemental look. “I know where the castle is,” he said, flat.</p><p>Grinning, Emrys said, “Of course, of course.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Mordred didn’t say a word when they arrived at Gaius’ chambers, and Merlin watched him go straight to Gwen and wrap his arms around her, squeezing tightly.</p><p>Gwen gasped when she saw him, and quickly returned the embrace just as tightly; Merlin left them to it, pointedly turning away to chop herbs quietly to give them space.</p><p>He didn’t think he saw Mordred leave Gwen’s side after; the young druid boy was clutching onto her arm when she talked to her father, pulling faces at the guards when they were listening intently to Gwen and Tom’s conversation; he was curled up with her when she fell asleep on Merlin’s bed, and Morgana came to ask how Gwen was doing.</p><p>And Mordred was there when Gwen found out that Tom tried to escape.</p><p>Mordred was there when Gwen found out that her father was <em>dead</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin had thought they had more time. He’d thought that they would have another day, at least, to prove Tom’s innocence. And…Tom had thought that too. Gwen had <em>told </em>him that they were doing all they could when she saw him the day before, so it didn’t make sense for him to try and escape.</p><p>It didn’t make sense for him to have the keys either; it didn’t make sense for Tom to knock a guard unconscious as he tried to run for it.</p><p>Because Merlin meant what he had said before: Tom was the gentlest person he knew, and wouldn’t do a thing to harm anyone.</p><p>Merlin didn’t know what was going on. But he did know that his friend was hurting, and he needed to be there for her.</p><p>              “Alright?” he asked, quiet, as he closed the bedroom door behind him.</p><p>Gwen, sat on the bed with Mordred curled into her side, nodded. He didn’t think she meant it, because there was distance to her eyes and it reminded Merlin of how blank he’d been after Will died.</p><p>              “I just don’t understand,” Gwen said, her voice a hoarse whisper. Her eyes were red and puffy, with cheeks glistening with tears. “Why did he try and escape? His trial was this morning.”</p><p>Merlin didn’t say anything because that was not why Gwen was asking it, and even if it were, he couldn’t give an answer anyway.</p><p>A knock sounded on the door, and Merlin was surprised when it was Arthur who opened it. The prince’s knock was normally sharper; quick and irritated.</p><p>Now, though, he was awkward and soft and kind and everything Merlin thought would make him a great king one day.</p><p>Gwen practically leapt to her feet, jostling Mordred enough to make him glare at Arthur for disturbing him.</p><p>              “<em>Sire</em>.”</p><p>              “Guinevere,” Arthur started, awkward as Merlin had ever seen him, “I…want you to know that your job is safe. And…that your home is yours for life. I guarantee you that.” He hesitated, seemed to realise that Mordred was still glaring poison at him, and frowned. “I know that it’s not much, under the circumstances, but…anything you want, anything you need. All you have to do is ask.”</p><p>Merlin and Gwen shared a look. He nodded, showing his agreement with what Arthur said, and she sighed and bit her lip.</p><p>Arthur turned to leave then, but just before he did, he added, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>              “Thank you, sire,” Gwen murmured.</p><p>              “And…” Arthur glanced at Merlin, who raised a judgemental eyebrow; his mouth snapped shut, and he shook his head before walking back out with only a single glance back.</p><p>Gwen sat back down on Merlin’s bed with a thump, and Mordred curled back around her, resting his head in her lap.</p><p>              “Don’t like him,” the young druid grumbled.</p><p>              “He’s being very kind,” Gwen said, still quiet. “He doesn’t have to do any of that. He’s admitting his father’s mistakes.”</p><p>              “No, he’s not,” Mordred said. “He’s saying he's sorry for your loss. He’s not saying he was wrong.”</p><p>Seeing how Gwen’s hands were shaking slightly, out of Mordred’s sight, and her lips were trembling, Merlin decided to step in.</p><p>              “That’s as far as Arthur can go without saying the king was wrong,” Merlin said. “For him to do that would make the kingdom look weak.”</p><p>Mordred scrunched up his nose, sitting up straighter to look at Merlin properly. He still didn’t let go of Gwen, keeping one hand clutched to her arm. “No it wouldn’t.”</p><p>              “In Uther’s opinion, it would. And, right now, Arthur’s not very good at going against his father.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said. “So I should feel sorry for him?” Mischief was glinting in his eye, but behind it there was a genuine pain at seeing Gwen distressed.</p><p>Choking back a laugh, Merlin quickly nodded. “Yes. Please do that. Please <em>tell </em>him that you’re doing that.”</p><p>              “Merlin…” Gwen said.</p><p>              “Ah, sorry Gwen,” Merlin said, his laughter dying a quick death. “That was inconsiderate of me.”</p><p>Gwen shook her head, scrubbed her tears away, and then said, “No, I just…I think it would be funny.”</p><p>              “You do?” Merlin asked, surprised.</p><p>              “Mm-hmm,” Gwen said, nodding.</p><p>Mordred’s forehead creased. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”</p><p>              “Does Merlin not count now?” Gwen asked, amusement curving her mouth up.</p><p>              “Of <em>course</em> he doesn’t,” Mordred said, grinning toothily. “Embers is <em>terrible</em>.”</p><p>Merlin made a wounded sound. “Insulted by my own cousin…I can’t believe you could be so rude.”</p><p>              “He was a delightful boy before he met you,” Gwen said. “So kind…I should never have let him anywhere near you.”</p><p>              “You didn’t <em>know </em>him before he met me,” Merlin said, pulling a face.</p><p>Mordred laughed, high and full of wonder.</p><p>And then suddenly, very suddenly, the joy dropped off Gwen’s face and she stiffened, her shoulders tensing. Mordred stopped laughing right away, tucking back against her, and Merlin moved to take a seat on his bed, next to the two of them.</p><p>              “He’s gone,” Gwen gasped out, tears falling once again. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”</p><p>Merlin rested a hand on her shoulder, and Mordred remained curled up next her, and the two of them comforted her as she grieved.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A night later, Merlin was once again woken by the pulsing of magic he and Gaius now knew to be the mage stone.</p><p>He bolted upright in his bed, wincing when it gave a loud creak, and then froze when Mordred blinked awake.</p><p>              “Emrys?” the young druid asked.</p><p>              “It’s nothing,” Merlin murmured. “Go back to sleep.”</p><p>Mordred nodded sleepily, then turned back over, barely managing to stay on the bed.</p><p>
  <em>How does Mordred not hear the mage stone?</em>
</p><p>Gwen was staying with them again, because when she’d gone home the previous night she’d been attacked by Tauren; given that he’d said he would kill her if she didn’t do what he wanted, Mordred had immediately offered her his new bed, and so he and Merlin were sharing.</p><p>Once he was sure that Mordred was asleep again, Merlin quietly got out of bed and pulled his coat and scarf on before slipping out of the room. It wasn’t difficult to track the mage stone through the castle – it was singing a song, the notes eerily familiar; perhaps a lullaby his mother once knew.</p><p>Merlin was <em>not </em>expecting the song to lead him to Morgana.</p><p>She was wearing a dark cloak, with the hood drawn over her head, but it was obvious to anyone who knew her that it was, indeed, her.</p><p>Why would Morgana have the rune stone? More importantly, why was she sneaking out of the castle with it at four thirty in the morning?</p><p>Scratch that, Merlin realised as he followed her further: why was she sneaking out of the <em>city</em> with it?</p><p>Morgana was remarkably unobservant, and it wasn’t difficult to remain unnoticed as he followed her through the forest, until she reached a crossroads.</p><p>Merlin no longer knew the time was, but the sun had risen at that point, which helped him see the interaction that followed. It involved Morgana giving the stone back to Tauren (which made a lot of sense, and Merlin couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that sooner in his hours of following her), telling the group of sorcerers that she hated Uther (understandable, who couldn’t relate?), and then that she wanted to help them kill the king (which…what?)</p><p>Murder was…not a good thing, and most certainly not something he’d thought Morgana willing to do. Ok, yes, she was angry, but…murder? Really?</p><p>Merlin’s head span with thoughts, and later he would barely remember the journey back to Camelot; he had no idea what to do.</p><p>Which was why he ended up going down to see the dragon, which he hadn’t done in <em>ages</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The dragon, as usual, encouraged him to do something that felt deeply, deeply wrong. Then he said:</p><p>              “That druid boy has returned to Camelot,” in a deeply disgusted voice.</p><p>              “Mordred isn’t evil,” Merlin retorted, instantly alert.</p><p>The dragon scoffed. “Just because you think someone innocent, that does not make them so.”</p><p>              “He gave up his bed for Gwen, because she’s scared and missing her father,” Merlin said. “Proof that he’s not evil.”</p><p>              “That proves <em>nothing</em>.”</p><p>              “It proves he’s kind.”</p><p>The dragon growled, deep enough that the sound reverberated through Merlin’s bones and made him shake.</p><p>              “He cannot be trusted.”</p><p>With that, the dragon flew off, leaving Merlin irritated and with an order to let Morgana murder Uther.</p><p>Honestly, why did he even come down in the first place?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>              “You’re right,” Merlin breathed. He glanced out of the window, then back at Gwen. “Of course you’re right.”</p><p>He started out of the room.</p><p>              “Is anything wrong?” Gwen called after him.</p><p>              “No, no! See you later,” he shouted back, and then Merlin was gone, sprinting off into the castle.</p><p>There was silence for a moment, during which Gwen wondered what in the world was going on.</p><p>              “Well, <em>that’s</em> not suspicious or anything,” Mordred muttered, just loudly enough for Gwen for hear.</p><p>She nodded her agreement, staring out the doorway that Merlin had left through. “I don’t know what that was about.”</p><p>              “Embers often overhears strange things,” Mordred said, looking up at her. “So he often gets caught up in strange things.”</p><p>Gwen sighed. “I hope it <em>is </em>just a strange thing. Because asking whether I want Uther dead, and then running out of the door when I said I didn’t…” She trailed off.</p><p>              “That’s about as strange as they come?” Mordred offered.</p><p>              “Yes,” Gwen whispered. “It is.”</p><p>Mordred waited a moment, and then asked, “Can you show me how to make pies today?”</p><p>Confused but onboard with the idea nonetheless, Gwen said, “Of course I can.”</p><p>              “Kara told me about pies when I was at home,” Mordred said. “She <em>kept</em> on going on about how good they are, because Gaetan made them while I was here, and how I couldn’t have any idea on how tasty they are.”</p><p>              “That sounds irritating.”</p><p>Mordred nodded enthusiastically. “<em>So </em>irritating. I want to learn how to make them, then I can one up her.”</p><p>              “I’ll show you now,” Gwen decided. And…maybe cooking, doing something with her hands, would help. Returning to work certainly had. “Lady Morgana’s trip has given me the afternoon off.”</p><p>Mordred lit up. “Awesome!”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the end, Morgana stopped the assassination attempt. Merlin wasn’t sure if that had been her plan all along, and she’d been tricking the sorcerers, or if she genuinely changed her mind when the moment came; he didn’t think he’d ever know.</p><p>He couldn’t exactly tell her – or anyone else, for that matter – that he’d fought off the others with his magic. That <em>may </em>just end up with him being burnt at the stake.</p><p>The one person he could tell was Gaius. And Mordred, now, too, actually.</p><p>              “You saved Uther,” Mordred said, his face scrunched up.</p><p>This was the first time, since he’d returned to Camelot, that Merlin had seen him away from Gwen.</p><p>              “Technically, it was <em>Morgana</em> who saved him,” Merlin said. “I just…intended to.”</p><p>              “I don’t like Uther,” Mordred said.</p><p>Merlin huffed a laugh. “I don’t think many people do. Do you think he deserved to die?”</p><p>Mordred considered the question for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think anyone deserves to die.”</p><p>              “That’s a druid teaching,” Gaius explained to Merlin from his place beside the flame, stirring at a bubbling potion. “Peace and non-violence.”</p><p>              “It’s more complicated than that,” Mordred said. “We don’t believe in never fighting back, if your life is directly in danger. Just in…not seeking violence out. And never, ever, ever hurting people unnecessarily. It’s about balance and moderation.”</p><p>              “Oh?” Merlin knew next to nothing about druid teachings, just the scraps Mordred had mentioned off-hand.</p><p>              “You eat animals,” Mordred said, “but you don’t eat too many animals, because that means other animals don’t have enough to eat. You pick herbs, but you don’t pick too many because that affects other plants and animals.”</p><p>              “That’s fascinating,” Merlin said. “I’d thought of those things, I guess, but never quite like that.”</p><p>Mordred shrugged. “You haven’t lived in the forest. We move around a lot, so it’s easier for us than some people to live like that.”</p><p>              “You live in camps, right?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Mordred nodded, then an excited smile grew on his face. “You’ll get to see, soon!”</p><p>              “I will,” Merlin agreed.</p><p>              “The Mabon celebrations are always fun,” Mordred said. “You’ll enjoy them.”</p><p>              “I’m sure I will,” Merlin said.</p><p>Mordred hesitated, then added, “And I can introduce you to my friend? She said she didn’t think I’d really met Emrys, which I said wasn’t true, but she was mean about it.”</p><p>              “…Sure,” Merlin said, more hesitantly this time. “You can…introduce me as Emrys.”</p><p>              “Awesome!” Mordred cried, then leapt down off the table to pull Merlin into a hug.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope you enjoyed this chapter! well, i say 'enjoyed'. there was a death and stuff, which isn't fun, but i hope you enjoyed just about everything else.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lancelot comes to visit! Literally a chapter just about Lancelot coming to visit!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Watch me...write something that's pretty non-canon-compliant and give absolutely no reasoning to the change.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin couldn’t believe what he was reading. His surprise must have been clear on his face, because Arthur asked, “What’s made you pull a face like <em>that</em>, Merlin?”</p>
<p>              “Nothing,” Merlin answered absently as he scanned the line of writing again and again, trying to check that it was real.</p>
<p>              “It’s clearly not <em>nothing</em>,” Arthur scoffed, “or you wouldn’t be gaping at a piece of paper.”</p>
<p>Merlin shook his head and tucked the letter back into his jacket. “It’s really nothing important.”</p>
<p>              “Don’t pretend to be interesting,” Arthur said.</p>
<p>Unsure whether Arthur was genuinely interested, or just trying to find something to distract him from paperwork, Merlin shrugged.</p>
<p>              “Just…got some good news.”</p>
<p>              “Well, don’t keep it to yourself,” Arthur said. Under his breath, he added, “I could use some good news.”</p>
<p>Merlin frowned. He hadn’t heard of anything especially bad happening in the last few weeks; things had been mostly quiet after Tauren’s band of sorcerers were all killed.</p>
<p><em>And Gwen’s father</em>, he added mentally.</p>
<p>              “What’s wrong?” he asked. He’d been standing beside the wardrobe while he read the letter from Lancelot, but now he moved closer to try and read Arthur’s paperwork.</p>
<p>Arthur sighed wearily and rubbed a hand over his face. “Nothing major, just—a couple of reports of some big animal rampaging near some of the outlying villages.”</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “Are you going to go and kill it?”</p>
<p>Hunts were awfully boring. Just days and days of waiting around, until there was an animal dead on the ground and then they were upsetting; Merlin thought it was pointless and cruel to kill animals for sport.</p>
<p>              “No,” Arthur said, and now he looked irritated. “My father doesn’t think it a serious threat; so long as it stays in the south, I can do nothing.”</p>
<p>              “Oh well,” Merlin said, shrugging. “That’s a shame, but if your father says you can’t kill it…”</p>
<p>Arthur was always incredibly reluctant to disobey Uther.</p>
<p>              “I know,” Arthur murmured, more to himself than Merlin, and readjusted his paperwork before looking up with a grin on his face. “So what’s your good news, then? You’ve avoided the question, which means it must be interesting.”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Merlin said, “Only in comparison to…” he squinted down at Arthur’s paperwork, then read out loud: “‘the total grain count per head, a comparison between ten years ago and now.’ Oof, you’re right. That is <em>awful</em>.”</p>
<p>              “Exactly,” Arthur said.</p>
<p>              “Fine,” Merlin sighed, then pulled out the letter again. Arthur reached out like he expected to take it, but there were private things in Lancelot’s letter so Merlin stepped back with a frown. “It’s a letter from a friend.”</p>
<p>              “You do realise that trying to be mysterious just makes me more interested, don’t you?” Arthur said, sounding amused. He leant back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head as he stretched.</p>
<p>              “Lancelot’s coming to visit next week.”</p>
<p>Arthur choked, and it quickly turned into a coughing fit that had him hunching forward, struggling for air. His face slowly darkened, until it was a rather unhealthy shade of mauve.</p>
<p>Merlin darted around the table, and hit his master’s back until he could breathe again.</p>
<p>              “What was <em>that</em> about?” Merlin asked, but his mind was already whirring.</p>
<p>Now he could breathe again, Arthur coughed once more before straightening, his back a rod, and his skin returned a regular flush instead of a deep purple from lack of oxygen. “...Swallowed something wrongly.”</p>
<p>Flatly, Merlin said, “You weren’t eating.”</p>
<p>              “It was spit,” Arthur said. Then: “Lancelot’s coming?”</p>
<p>It was only then that Merlin remembered what had happened when Lancelot was last in Camelot:</p>
<p>Arthur had wanted to break the Knight’s Code to help Lancelot achieve his dream. The same Knight’s Code that he refused to break even in the face of certain death.</p>
<p><em>Oh, </em>Merlin thought. <em>Now, that’s </em>very <em>interesting.</em></p>
<p>              “Yeah, it’s been a few months and he’s heading through Camelot anyway, from Caerleon down to Nemeth, so he thought he might as well stop by for a day or two.”</p>
<p>              “And” –Arthur gestured vaguely towards the pile of paper Merlin had dropped on the floor in his rush to make sure his master didn’t suffocate– “he writes to you?”</p>
<p>              “I write him a letter once a month, he writes me one once a month, and we get them about half a month apart,” Merlin said. Arthur blinked, taken aback, so Merlin added: “Yes, is the short answer.”</p>
<p>              “Huh,” Arthur said. “Alright.”</p>
<p>There was tightness to his shoulders, though, and something that Merlin couldn’t name flashed across his face.</p>
<p>              “That’s just one letter?” Arthur suddenly said, and although it was a perfectly valid question (in Merlin’s opinion, their letters weren’t that long, but most other people expressed surprise), Merlin didn’t think it was genuinely what Arthur wanted to ask.</p>
<p>He answered it anyway, because he hadn’t quite fit together all of the puzzle yet. “Yep.”</p>
<p>Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s…a long letter.”</p>
<p>              “That’s what Gwen said too.” Merlin frowned, wondering how they’d gotten so side-tracked. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing paperwork?”</p>
<p>              “That’s ‘aren’t you supposed to be doing paperwork’, <em>sire</em>,” Arthur corrected with a tone of annoyance.</p>
<p>Merlin rolled his eyes; Arthur very rarely bothered to correct Merlin on this anymore. Only when he was being annoying. Or, in this case, pointing out that Arthur was slacking. “Will that be all<em>, sire</em>? Or does milord require me to undress His Highness before he retreats to bed? Perhaps milord will allow me the <em>honour </em>of staying to watch his magnificent-self <em>sleep</em>—”</p>
<p>              “Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said.</p>
<p>              “Shutting up,” Merlin said, then grinned at the idea that popped into his head. “One last thing: does Morgana know that you can’t undress yourself?”</p>
<p>Merlin wasn’t able to dodge the sock; he was able to dodge the candle stick that followed, laughing as he darted out Arthur’s room.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin found Mordred dutifully chopping herbs while Gaius talked quietly to an old woman who Merlin didn’t recognise.</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Who’s she?</em>’ he asked telepathically as he slipped into the room, taking care not to make too much noise.</p>
<p>That plan failed the second he stepped in a bucket and went flying forward, knocking a couple of books off a table in the process. They fell on him, one landing a solid blow to his face.</p>
<p>              “Ugh,” he groaned once he was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.</p>
<p>              “Ah, Merlin,” Gaius exclaimed, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’d just watched his powerful nephew be beaten by a bucket and three (admittedly heavy) books. “Good, you’re back. I need you to clean out the leech tank.”</p>
<p>Merlin groaned again, more loudly this time, as he got to his feet then brushed himself down. “Again?”</p>
<p>              “Yes, again,” Gaius said. “Given that the last time you did it was three months ago.”</p>
<p>              “Three months isn’t enough time to recover,” Merlin grumbled.</p>
<p>Gaius raised his eyebrow. “I expect it to be done by this evening.”</p>
<p>              “Yes, Gaius,” Merlin said, like the dutiful person he was.</p>
<p>              “Thank you,” Gaius said, nodding, and then he turned back to the patient who looked a bit out of it. Her eyes were unfocused, and she was blinking far too much.</p>
<p>Merlin, finally on his feet after his fall, sidled over to Mordred. ‘<em>So? Who is she?</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Some woman from the lower town,</em>’ Mordred answered, stopping cutting to give Merlin his full attention. Merlin was glad that the now-eleven-year-old was taking knife safety seriously. ‘<em>She thinks she just hit her head too hard and will be fine in a few days, but her family thinks it’s something more serious so they sent her to Gaius.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Huh,</em>’ Merlin said. ‘<em>You picked up a lot of that conversation.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Gaius doesn’t care about privacy unless the patient cares</em>.’ Mordred shrugged. ‘<em>And I don’t think she’s realised I’m here.</em>’</p>
<p>Merlin nodded, then glanced down at Mordred’s pile of cut herbs. ‘<em>These are very neat,</em>’ he said, surprised. Last time Mordred had been here, he hadn’t been <em>bad</em>, per se, but he hadn’t been good either.</p>
<p>              ‘<em>I did a lot of it when I was at home,</em>’ Mordred said. ‘<em>It’s calming, so I volunteered.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>That’s very useful of you.</em>’</p>
<p>Mordred shrugged again. ‘<em>Everyone helps out around the camp. If my chore is something I enjoy, that’s better.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>That sounds like a good way of living,</em>’ Merlin said. ‘<em>Then you don’t get anyone like the royal prat.</em>’</p>
<p>Mordred grinned, bright and toothy. ‘<em>What did he do now?</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Actually, nothing too bad today,</em>’ Merlin had to admit. ‘<em>Just threw a few things at me, gave me a dozen chores to do overnight. But I did learn something interesting: I think he’s got a crush on Lancelot.</em>’</p>
<p>Pulling a face, Mordred asked, ‘<em>You mean your friend Lancelot?</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>I told Arthur that he’s coming next week, and his reaction was </em>hilarious<em>.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>That’s gross.</em>’</p>
<p>Merlin laughed, delighted by Mordred’s reaction, startling Gaius and the woman he was treating. Gaius dropped the small bottle he was holding, and it shattered on the floor.</p>
<p>              “Drat,” Gaius muttered. “Merlin, fetch me another bottle.”</p>
<p>              “Of what?” Merlin asked blankly.</p>
<p>Gaius stared at him for a moment, then blinked. “Oh, right. The extract of feverfew, it should be on the top shelf.”</p>
<p>It didn’t take Merlin long to find another little glass bottle of extract of feverfew, and he handed it to Gaius, who then poured some out onto a rag and wiped it on his patient’s forehead.</p>
<p>              “Right, then,” Gaius said. “If you aren’t feeling better by tomorrow morning, then you need to return right away.”</p>
<p>The woman’s brow furrowed, and then she slowly nodded, blinking rapidly – far too rapidly to be normal. She got to her feet, clutching at the edge of the bed for support, and then edged out of Gaius’ chambers.</p>
<p>Only once she was gone did Merlin turn and ask Gaius what had happened.</p>
<p>              “She hit her head very hard.” Gaius turned away and began putting bits and pieces back in his box of medical supplies. “I suspect the blow caused permanent damage, but I can’t be sure yet.”</p>
<p>              “Permanent damage is bad,” Mordred said. He sounded very small. When they both turned to look at him, he added, “Right?”</p>
<p>              “Yes,” Gaius said, gentling his voice. “It is.”</p>
<p>              “Oh.”</p>
<p>Merlin was beside Mordred in five steps, laying a reassuring hand on the young druid’s shoulder; he leaned into it, and their magic pressed together for a brief moment.</p>
<p>              “Sometimes this happens,” Gaius said. “I can’t cure every patient. I simply do my best, and hope that it is enough.”</p>
<p>Mordred shook his head. “That isn’t fair. T-that woman has a family, one who’s worried about her.”</p>
<p>              “I’m afraid that life isn’t always fair.”</p>
<p>The words could have been harsh, but Gaius said them softly enough that Merlin knew they came from a place deep inside the physician, one that hurt to have to tell his patients that there was nothing he could do.</p>
<p>Mordred shook his head, and pressed himself into Merlin’s side, wrapping his arms tightly around him.</p>
<p>              “Don’t like that,” Mordred mumbled.</p>
<p>Huffing a wry laugh, Merlin joked, “That’s kind of the point.”</p>
<p>The poisonous glare he received in response wasn’t that poisonous, because Mordred hadn’t practiced enough to do it on command yet, but Merlin gave him a sad smile in return anyway.</p>
<p>              “It sucks, sometimes,” Merlin said, “watching people come to Gaius. When they get stuck with an illness, it sucks. But then you watch someone jump for joy because their—I don’t know, their mother’s tumour’s been cured, and you realise that it’s all worthwhile.”</p>
<p>              “Merlin makes a good point,” Gaius said, “but I would like to ask when <em>he</em> has been healing anyone’s tumours.”</p>
<p>Mordred giggled when Merlin rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>              “That was a metaphor, obviously.”</p>
<p>              “Then I don’t think you understand how metaphors work.”</p>
<p>Merlin pulled a face at his uncle. “I understand just fine.”</p>
<p>              “Really?” Gaius’ eyebrow went up again. “I’ll have to take your word for it, I’m afraid, because I have yet to see any evidence.”</p>
<p>Sniffing, Merlin turned away from his uncle, and leant back against the worktable. Mordred let go of him and returned to chopping herbs.</p>
<p>              “I prefer you,” Merlin whispered to the young druid. “You’re much nicer to me.”</p>
<p>Mordred grinned, even as Gaius rolled his eyes and started to mutter about disrespectful teenagers.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>              “You’re seeing Lancelot?” Gwen repeated, her eyebrows shooting up as surprise rippled through her. “He’s—coming to Camelot?”</p>
<p>              “Huh,” Merlin said, “there’s a ‘lot’ in both ‘Lancelot’ and ‘Camelot’.”</p>
<p>              “That sounds awfully like an attempted misdirection,” Morgana said from her place at her table, not bothering to look up from the embroidery she was teaching Mordred.</p>
<p>Gasping dramatically, Mordred clutched his hands to his chest and exclaimed, “Merlin! Are you trying to misdirect Gwen’s question?”</p>
<p>Morgana flashed a grin, so fast even Gwen could barely spot it, and Mordred smiled back, and she regretted ever letting Morgana interact with an impressionable young child.</p>
<p>              “What? No.” Merlin shook his head. “I just suddenly realised that, and I had to share it.”</p>
<p>              “While I am <em>sure </em>that you are telling the truth,” Morgana said sarcastically, “the fact remains that you have yet to answer the Gwen’s question, which indicates a misdirection.”</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “Right.” He paused. “What was the question?”</p>
<p>Gwen couldn’t help her snort, nor Mordred his giggle.</p>
<p>              “I was just expressing my disbelief,” she said. “It wasn’t really a question.” She gave Morgana a disapproving look. “Milady was just being mean.”</p>
<p>Morgana grinned in the way she always did. “You’d know if I was being mean.”</p>
<p>              “Yes,” Gwen said dryly, “I believe I would.” She paused for effect, then repeated what she’d said earlier: “Milady was being mean.”</p>
<p>Merlin laughed. “Nice one, Gwen.”</p>
<p>              “Honestly, though,” she continued, turning to the other servant with a more serious expression on her face, “Lancelot’s coming here?”</p>
<p>              “In two days,” Merlin agreed. “He can only stay half the day, 'cause he’s got a job to get to in Nemeth, but it’s going to be <em>amazing</em> to see him again.”</p>
<p>Amused by her friend’s excitement bubbling up, Gwen grinned at him. “It is going to be good to be see him again.”</p>
<p>              “I was going to go for a picnic in the woods,” Merlin said, “as long as you’re okay with that.”</p>
<p>              “A picnic in the woods sounds brilliant,” Gwen told him.</p>
<p>              “Is Lancelot your friend or your lover?” Morgana asked, her mouth curving wickedly. She gasped, as if something had suddenly occurred to her. “Is this a <em>date</em>, Merlin?”</p>
<p>Merlin rolled his eyes. “If he was my lover, we’d be going for a picnic<em> alone</em>, wouldn’t we?”</p>
<p>              “Not if you were feeling <em>particularly</em> <em>adventurous</em>,” Morgana said. "A third person wouldn't hinder certain activities. I've heard that the woods are a lovely place for it."</p>
<p>              "We're not doing 'certain activities'," Merlin said quickly, his cheeks flushing</p>
<p>              “Please don’t,” Gwen muttered to Morgana.</p>
<p>His face scrunching up, disgusted, Mordred said to Morgana, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m going to guess that it’s something gross.”</p>
<p>              “Morgana,” Gwen said, shooting her mistress a dirty look even as she paled when she remembered the child in the room, “has just been reading too many of her steamy love stories.”</p>
<p>              “So…<em>very</em> gross, then,” Mordred said matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>              “<em>Anyway</em>,” Merlin said, “Gwen and Lancelot and I will have nice picnic in forest, and you’re both welcome to come.”</p>
<p>Mordred’s brow creased. “But Lancelot doesn’t know me.”</p>
<p>              “I’ve told him a few things,” Merlin admitted, “and I think he’d like to meet you.”</p>
<p>              “Maybe,” Mordred said, looking uncertain.</p>
<p>He wasn’t good with new people, Gwen knew, and still said very little around anyone other than the three of them – four, including Gaius. Maybe Arthur; she wasn’t sure about his and Mordred’s relationship.</p>
<p>              “In fact,” Gwen said, giving Mordred a smile, “I <em>know </em>he’d love to meet you. It would be nice if you could come, but I – we – get it if you don’t want to.”</p>
<p>              “Maybe,” Mordred repeated.</p>
<p>              “You don’t have to decide yet,” Merlin offered. “It’s not like there’s much preparation to do.”</p>
<p>Gwen frowned. “Has Arthur given you the day off?”</p>
<p>              “No,” Merlin said with a shrug. “I’m just not going to turn up to work. All he’ll do is shout at me for a bit.”</p>
<p>              “‘All’,” Morgana echoed, expression morphing from bored to irritated. “Arthur is a spoiled child if he thinks his servant shouldn’t have time off to see a friend every once in a while.”</p>
<p>              “Can I come with you when you shout at him?” Mordred asked, eyes wide.</p>
<p>Delight flickered across Morgana’s face, but she just said, “Only if you’ve finished that embroidery.”</p>
<p>Mordred nodded very seriously, and redoubled his efforts, focusing as intently as he could on the little patch of fabric.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen wasn’t entirely sure how to react to the scene that awaited her by the castle gates; she’d seen Merlin do some odd things in her time knowing him, but…this really took the prize.</p>
<p>              “He knocked into the table, and one of Gaius’ potions fell on him,” Mordred raced to tell her, utterly gleeful.</p>
<p>              “That is not what happened,” Merlin said, glaring daggers at the boy.</p>
<p>Mordred raised an eyebrow and—<em>god</em>, this boy was going to grow up into a monster if they continued to let him spend time with both Merlin and Morgana. “Isn’t it?”</p>
<p>There was a challenge in that question, and Gwen wondered what had warranted it; Merlin just chuckled.</p>
<p>              “Don’t think you’re going to get out of it that easily.” He turned to Gwen. “Mordred did this to me.”</p>
<p>              “He spilt the potion on your hair?”</p>
<p>Merlin ran a hand through said hair, in all its bright pink glory. “Remember how we met Mordred?”</p>
<p>Frowning, Gwen took a moment to consider what Merlin meant; when she realised, her eyes widened and she felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. “You mean…you know?” She wiggled her fingers, and Merlin burst out laughing.</p>
<p>              “Yeah, I do.”</p>
<p>Mordred pulled a face at the boy pretending to be his cousin. “I <em>told </em>you, it was an accident.”</p>
<p>              “Mordred,” Merlin said, “out of the two of us, who’s stuck with bright pink hair for an entire day? And who is not?”</p>
<p>              “You are,” Mordred admitted dejectedly. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>Merlin sighed, then crouched down to Mordred’s level. “Don’t worry,” he told him, grinning again, “I’m not mad. Just…not used to pink hair, you know? It’s awesome that you did this, even by accident, okay?”</p>
<p>Gwen’s brain immediately shouted at her that magic, even accidental, was <em>not </em>awesome, but she squashed down the voice; Mordred was a lovely person, and she'd been coming to the conclusion that maybe magic wasn’t so bad.</p>
<p>              “Okay,” Mordred said.</p>
<p>              “But…it’s not very safe in Camelot.”</p>
<p>Mordred nodded, his expression serious. “They could hurt me.”</p>
<p>His face shutting down and growing <em>scarily</em> blank, Merlin said, the words coming slowly and weighted, “I will not let them hurt you.”</p>
<p>              “What?” Mordred’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “If something happens—”</p>
<p>              “Then I will defend you,” Merlin said, cutting him off. “In…every way I can.”</p>
<p>Gwen couldn’t help but feel she was intruding on a deeply personal moment, and that she was missing an important piece of information. She didn’t say anything, though, just looked away to give the two of them a bit of privacy.</p>
<p>              “Anyway,” Merlin said, pushing to his feet a minute later, and grinning like he hadn’t just offered to give up everything for Mordred, “we should get going. Don’t want to make Lancelot wait.”</p>
<p>Startled by the sudden shift in mood, Gwen could only nod and watch Merlin heft up the picnic basket before offering Mordred his arm and starting into town with a spring in his step.</p>
<p>              “Come on!” he called back over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Gwen sighed and then pushed thoughts of death out of her mind to smile and enjoy the day ahead; she skipped down the street to catch up with the two of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Lancelot was waiting in the spot they’d decided on, by the gate to the city, looking remarkably similar to the last time Merlin had seen him.</p>
<p>His hair was still longer than most of the Knights, and he was still wearing a loose shirt. A new scar slashed across his cheek, and his sword hung at his hip. And he was still so <em>pretty</em>. But…Merlin just saw him as a friend now. The kiss had been a mistake, and it had only lasted for a few seconds before Lancelot had stepped away.</p>
<p>For a moment, Merlin wondered where Lancelot’s armour had gone – the very expensive armour that Arthur had given him for free – but then he noticed the heavy-looking pack at Lancelot’s feet, and realised that you wouldn’t wear armour to a picnic.</p>
<p>              “Merlin!” Lancelot shouted, a grin spreading across his face as he strode forward to wrap his arms around Merlin in a hug. “So good to see you again.”</p>
<p>Merlin couldn’t help but return the grin. “It’s good to see you too.”</p>
<p>              "Your hair," Lancelot continued, "is...an interesting choice."</p>
<p>Merlin laughed. "It was an accident."</p>
<p>              “And Guinevere,” Lancelot said, holding a hand out; Gwen placed her hand in his, and he leant down to press a kiss to it.</p>
<p>Gwen blushed, giggling lightly, and Mordred let out a faint groan, pressing himself into Merlin’s side.</p>
<p>              ‘<em>They’re being gross</em>,’ he complained in Merlin’s head.</p>
<p>Merlin grinned. ‘<em>They’re being </em>cute<em>.</em>’</p>
<p>Giving him a bewildered look, Mordred asked, ‘<em>What part of that is cute?</em>’</p>
<p>              “And I take it this Mordred,” Lancelot continued, and smiled warmly down at Mordred; Mordred, bad with strangers as he was, just stared at him and tucked himself further into Merlin’s side.</p>
<p>              “He is,” Merlin said, once it became clear that Mordred wasn’t going to say anything.</p>
<p>              “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lancelot said, rolling with it. “Merlin’s told me a lot about you.”</p>
<p>Mordred just nodded, his hair rustling Merlin’s jacket, and his hand clutched more tightly at Merlin’s arm.</p>
<p>              “Shall we?” Gwen gestured across the fields, to the forest. “Merlin said he knew the perfect spot for a picnic.”</p>
<p>Merlin huffed a laugh. “Yeah, Arthur took that princess there. She was horrible, but the location was great.”</p>
<p>              “Woman?” Lancelot asked, his brow furrowing. He held out his arm, and Merlin surrendered the picnic basket to him without argument.</p>
<p>              “I think Merlin means Sophia,” Gwen said, then gave a slight laugh. “Arthur wanted to marry her. Actually tried to, in fact.”</p>
<p>Merlin paused. “You know about that?”</p>
<p>              “Morgana told me.”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Know about what?</em>’ Mordred asked.</p>
<p>              “Arthur tried to elope with Sophia, someone he’d known for all of about three days.”</p>
<p>              “That…does not sound like him,” Lancelot said slowly, with an odd expression on his face. Merlin didn’t know what it meant.</p>
<p>              “It wasn’t,” Merlin said, and then: “He was under a love spell.”</p>
<p>Gwen’s eyebrows shot up, and Lancelot looked surprised too; Mordred choked back a laugh.</p>
<p>              “You didn’t tell Morgana that,” Gwen said after a moment.</p>
<p>              “I didn’t tell <em>anyone </em>that,” Merlin corrected. “Not even Arthur. I managed to remove it with a potion, but Gaius and I figured it would be better if Uther didn’t know about the sorcery.”</p>
<p>              “Prince Arthur was put under a love spell, and no one knows?” Lancelot said.</p>
<p>Mordred struggled not to laugh again, and muffled himself by pressing his face into Merlin’s jacket.</p>
<p>              “Well, Gaius and I know,” Merlin said with a shrug. “And now you two know too. And Mordred.” He paused. “You, uh, can’t tell anyone about this. The king can’t find out I covered up the use of magic.”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>That includes you, Mordred,</em>’ he added mentally. ‘<em>Even though it is funny.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>It’s much funnier for people to think he tried to elope,</em>’ Mordred replied. ‘<em>I need to tell people that.</em>’</p>
<p>Merlin’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that!”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>Why not?</em>’ Mordred frowned.</p>
<p>              “Because then Arthur will know I told you, and he’ll get mad and I’ll be sent to the stocks. Again.”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>I’ll just say Morgana told me,</em>’ Mordred shrugged.</p>
<p>              “…I’d really rather you didn’t.”</p>
<p>              “What…what are they doing?” Lancelot whispered, loud enough for Merlin to hear, as he sidled over to Gwen.</p>
<p>              “They do this sometimes,” Gwen answered, then stilled. “I…”</p>
<p>              “He’s a druid, so he can speak in my mind,” Merlin explained easily.</p>
<p>Gwen stilled, her smile freezing on her face, and Mordred stiffened, despite knowing that Merlin had shown his magic to Lancelot.</p>
<p>              “Oh, that’s interesting,” Lancelot said mildly. “Do all druids have that ability, or is it just you, Mordred?”</p>
<p>Mordred glanced up at Merlin, who gestured for him to go ahead, then swallowed before whispering, “All of us.”</p>
<p>              “I’ve only met one druid before, you see,” Lancelot continued, as they started again into the forest. “She was even younger than you, by a few years, and about half your size.”</p>
<p>              “You’ve met a druid before?” Gwen repeated, surprised. “Most people in Camelot haven’t – or, if they have, they don’t realise it.”</p>
<p>Lancelot smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not in Camelot, then.”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>But he is in Camelot</em>,’ Mordred said, his face scrunching up.</p>
<p>              ‘<em>He means most of the time,</em>’ Merlin explained. ‘<em>He’s only passing through.</em>’</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Gwen said, flushing again. “Right.”</p>
<p>They walked in silence for a while, until they came across the picnic spot Merlin had chosen. Lancelot set down the picnic basket, and opened it to find a blanket.</p>
<p>              “This is very organised of you, Merlin,” he commented as he spread it out.</p>
<p>              “I know, right?” Merlin said, a grin spreading across his face as he settled down on the ground.</p>
<p>              ‘<em>It was very organised of Gaius,</em>’ Mordred snorted.</p>
<p>Merlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t be mean, Mordred. I did all of this myself.”</p>
<p>              “I take it that means you didn’t,” Gwen said, looking amused. To Lancelot, she explained, “Mordred spends a lot of time with Merlin, so’s normally the one who calls him out.”</p>
<p>Lancelot nodded his understand. “That sounds like an excellent and much needed job, from what I’ve read in Merlin’s letters.”</p>
<p>              “Did he tell you about the acid?” Gwen asked.</p>
<p>              “The acid-soup?”</p>
<p>Gwen nodded. “He got some on his hands, and Morgana had to force him to look after the injuries properly.”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>You got acid on your hands?</em>’ Mordred asked, concern threading his voice.</p>
<p>              “Barely,” Merlin said. “I’m fine.”</p>
<p>              ‘<em>So </em>that’s <em>where you got the scars from</em>." Mordred's eyes widened with the realisation.</p>
<p>His hand, already clutching at Merlin’s, tugged Merlin’s hand towards him and he forced it open to study the reddened patches of skin.</p>
<p>              “You didn’t tell me about those,” Lancelot said, frowning.</p>
<p>              “Like you can talk,” Merlin scoffed. “Where did you get that scar on your cheek? I don’t remember you telling me about <em>that </em>in any of your letters.”</p>
<p>Lancelot flushed. “It was nothing.”</p>
<p>              “That’s an angry scar, for ‘nothing’,” Gwen said, leaning in to study it more closely.</p>
<p>Once she was within a certain range, her gaze flicked to Lancelot’s eyes instead, and then down to his mouth.</p>
<p>Merlin couldn’t help his grin, happy to see his friends like this; Mordred just huffed and rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>              “And that’s very close to be inspecting a scar,” Mordred grumbled, and rolled his eyes when Gwen and Lancelot both pulled away quickly, blushing.</p>
<p>              “Don’t be mean,” Merlin told him, but he was happy that Mordred had spoken aloud of his own volition. Even if it was because he wanted to express his displeasure to people who couldn’t hear him in their heads.</p>
<p>              ‘<em>They were being gross.</em>’</p>
<p>              ‘<em>No, they were being </em>cute<em>.</em>’</p>
<p>Lancelot coughed awkwardly, and gestured to the picnic basket. “Shall we start with the feast Merlin brought?”</p>
<p>              “Let’s,” Gwen agreed very, very quickly.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>              “I like Lancelot,” Mordred decided on the way home.</p>
<p>Over the course of the few hours they’d had, Mordred hadn’t said much, but he’d slowly detached himself from Merlin’s side; a good sign.</p>
<p>              “I’m glad,” Merlin said.</p>
<p>              “He’s a good man,” Gwen said, and on the surface, it sounded like she was just adding to the conversation, but there was a distance to her expression that Merlin grinned at.</p>
<p>              “Is that the <em>only </em>reason you like him?”</p>
<p>Gwen flushed again, looking away. “<em>Merlin</em>.”</p>
<p>              “Don’t worry, I get it,” Merlin continued. “Lancelot is a very attractive man. What you’re feeling is perfectly natural—”</p>
<p>She whacked him, and Merlin pretended to cower, laughing.</p>
<p>              “You,” she told him, “are terrible.”</p>
<p>              “He’s just given you equal ammunition,” Mordred piped up. “He called Lancelot ‘very attractive.’”</p>
<p>Gwen paused. “Oh, you’re right. Is there something you want to tell us, Merlin?”</p>
<p>              “I can think that someone’s attractive and not do anything about it,” Merlin said. “<em>I’m </em>not the one who was about to kiss him – in front of a ten-year-old—”</p>
<p>              “Eleven,” Mordred corrected, annoyed.</p>
<p>              “—an <em>eleven</em>-year-old, no less. Shame, <em>shame</em> on you.”</p>
<p>Merlin laughed at the expression on Gwen’s face.</p>
<p>              “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I support your efforts to court Lancelot.”</p>
<p>              “What?” Gwen blushed even darker. “I don’t…what are you…”</p>
<p>              “It’s Mordred you’re going to have to convince,” Merlin continued, then pointed to Mordred, and the disgusted way he’d scrunched his face up.</p>
<p>Gwen hesitated. “Why are you convinced that I…like Lancelot?”</p>
<p>              “Uh…maybe because of your entire interaction with him?”</p>
<p>              “And…you would support that?”</p>
<p>Merlin frowned. “What do you mean? Of course I’d support that.”</p>
<p>              “Good.” Gwen smiled. “Because…I do. Like him, that is.”</p>
<p>Even as Merlin grinned, vindicated, Mordred groaned.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And that Lancelot felt accurate and not ooc!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Mordred is stubborn and wants Emrys to be safe, and Gwen and Merlin are amazing friends.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been just over a week since my last update, which isn't that long but it is longer than any of my previous updates. I went back to school recently, and then this week I had exams and then a migraine and now I've been introduced to a new TV show I'm binging, so...my updates will become a little less frequently. I'll probably try to do one on Mondays and one on Fridays? Until things are a little less hectic at least.<br/>Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin knew that things were going to go badly the second they encountered a huge monster that <em>reeked</em> of dark magic.</p><p>And he was right: Sir Bedivere died, and then they discovered it was a Questing Beast, and then Morgana freaked out, and then it turned out she was <em>right</em> because Arthur was bitten and <em>dying</em>.</p><p>All in all? Not a good three days.</p><p>Mordred paled as soon as he heard, and trailed Merlin to Arthur’s room, and then curled up on the windowsill and absolutely refused to leave.</p><p>And Merlin had too much going on, with the mess of life and death he got himself caught up in, to do anything about it.</p><p>Most of the people Mordred trusted had too much going on, in fact – Merlin, saving Arthur; Morgana, her nightmares; Arthur, dying – to do anything. Except for Gwen.</p><p> </p><p>              “Mordred,” Gwen murmured, letting her concern spill into her voice. “You need to sleep. Or eat, that would be good too.”</p><p>Mordred pulled his knees tighter to his chest and shook his head. “I <em>have</em> slept. I <em>have</em> eaten. I need to watch Arthur.”</p><p>              “Nothing’s going to change,” Gwen told him, gentle.</p><p>Except—well, except the terrible thing that Gaius had said would happen within the next two days.</p><p>              “Might do,” Mordred said. “‘Snot like anyone else in this castle will know. And Merlin and Gaius are busy. I need to do Merlin’s job cause he can’t.”</p><p>              “They are,” Gwen said. “You know where Merlin is?”</p><p>Mordred nodded. “He’s doing something <em>stupid</em>. That’s what Gaius said.”</p><p>              “That does sound like Merlin. Where’s Gaius now?”</p><p>              “He’s gone to bed,” Mordred said. “Told me I should too.”</p><p>Sighing, Gwen nodded. “He’s right. You’re going to be exhausted by the time Arthur—” Stiffening, she cut herself before she could finish the sentence. “By the time this is over,” she amended.</p><p>              “‘Dies’,” Mordred said, staring at his hands. “Everyone thinks he’s going to die, don’t they?”</p><p>              “Mordred…”</p><p>Mordred’s gaze cut to her, and it was cold but there was a deep, deep vulnerability on his face. “He can’t die. Merlin won’t let him. It’s not supposed to happen now.”</p><p>The first words Gwen wanted to say were to try and calm Mordred down, but that didn’t quite fit what he was saying. “What do you mean, it’s not supposed to happen now?”</p><p>Mordred shook his head. “Can’t say.”</p><p>              “But—there’s a reason you are saying that?” Gwen asked, hope sparking in her chest. Perhaps some magic was telling him something, making sure he knew that there was a chance.</p><p>              “Yes,” Mordred said, his voice a whisper. “There’s a reason.”</p><p>Gwen straightened, brushing her skirts down. “Then not all hope is lost.”</p><p>A smile – a real, actual smile – blossomed on Mordred’s face. “No, it’s not.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen, entering just as Uther left, found Mordred still in Arthur’s room the next day, even after Gaius and Merlin had given the prince a miracle cure and he was recovering.</p><p>              “Guinevere,” Arthur said, sounding surprised to see her.</p><p>              “I <em>knew</em> it,” Gwen said. “I <em>said</em> you’d be alright.”</p><p>From his place still on the windowsill, Mordred snorted. “<em>I</em> said he’d be alright, <em>you </em>said he was going to die.”</p><p>              “Save me,” Arthur hissed, looking directly at Gwen and trying very hard not to look at the young boy curled up a few feet from his head. “He refuses to leave. He got into a fight <em>with my father </em>about it.”</p><p>              “Mordred!” Gwen exclaimed, whirling on the young druid. “You got into a fight with the <em>King</em>?”</p><p>Mordred was <em>terrified </em>of the king, to the point that he refused to say a word in his presence; that he argued with him over staying to protect Arthur was unusual.</p><p>              “Not a fight,” Mordred mumbled.</p><p>              “It absolutely was,” Arthur said, pushing himself up straighter. “You said some very rude things to him.”</p><p>Mordred frowned. “Not <em>that </em>rude. Merlin’s said much, much worse to you.”</p><p>              “The only reason he didn’t have you in the stocks was because I spoke up on your behalf,” Arthur said, his voice rising in pitch. “You aren’t to do that again! Insulting the king is ten times ruder than a normal person. You don’t argue with the king and come out unpunished.”</p><p>Gwen got the feeling that Uther had been softer because Arthur was injured, too; she'd seen him brush right past his son's opinions before.</p><p>              “I mean…<em>I</em> did,” Mordred said, trying for cocky; Gwen knew him well enough to see the fear and terror, and how shaken up he was.</p><p>              “Don’t do that again, okay?” she said gently. “No matter how worried about Arthur you are.”</p><p>Mordred frowned. “I need to protect him.”</p><p>              “From my own father?” Arthur scoffed.</p><p>              “From your illness,” Mordred corrected. “You had to survive until Merlin got back with the cure.”</p><p>              “You thought my condition was going to worsen?” Arthur asked, sitting up further. Gwen hurried to move his pillows so he was more comfortable.</p><p>Huffing a derisive laugh, Mordred said, “<em>No</em>.”</p><p>              “Then what?”</p><p>              “Someone might have used your weak state to sneak in and kill you,” Mordred said casually, like that was a normal thing to say.</p><p>Fortunately for Gwen, she had spent enough time around Mordred to be familiar with him saying weird shit; Arthur had not. He gaped at Mordred, spluttering.</p><p>              “You’re confusing him,” Gwen told Mordred. “You’re very young to be talking about murder.”</p><p>Arthur opened his mouth and closed about, before choking out, “You’re worse than Merlin!”</p><p>              “I am?” Mordred tilted his head to one side. “How so?”</p><p>              “He talks about protecting me all the time, but you” –Arthur waved a finger in Mordred’s direction, craning his neck to get a proper look at him around the edge of his bed– “you’re half his size!”</p><p>              “No I’m not,” Mordred said. “I’m eleven years old.”</p><p>              “It’s rude to be mean to someone who’s just trying to be nice,” Gwen told Arthur. She moved to sort out the pile of dirty rags and the other dirty linens.</p><p>Arthur frowned, and then pointed to Gwen as if suddenly remembering something. “You talked to me.”</p><p>              “I did?” Gwen asked, stilling.</p><p>              “You stroked my forehead…”</p><p>Heat rose in Gwen’s face, embarrassment at her actions, but she said, “I was tending to your fever.”</p><p>More to himself this time, Arthur murmured, “Never lost faith…”</p><p>              “I was just talking,” Gwen insisted, keeping her back turned so Arthur wouldn’t see her darkening cheeks. And so she wouldn’t have to see the look of disgust that was sure to be on Mordred’s face.</p><p>              “Tell me again what you said?”</p><p>              “I don’t remember,” Gwen quickly lied.</p><p>              “Yes, you do.” Arthur’s voice sounded a lot like he was smirking. Gwen stiffened.</p><p>              “No, I don’t,” she said, shaking her head.</p><p>              “Come on,” Arthur said. “Something about…the man I am inside?”</p><p>Gwen took a deep breath before turning around and shaking her head. “Nope. I never said that.”</p><p>              “Guinevere.” Arthur put an odd weight on the second half of her name, as he usually did.</p><p>              “Is this flirting?” Mordred asked very suddenly.</p><p>Gwen immediately stiffened, as did Arthur. She got the feeling he’d forgotten that Mordred was there.</p><p>              “Because Morgana told me to watch out for flirting. She wants me to tell her every time I see people doing it. So unless you stop right now…”</p><p>              “Mordred, this isn’t flirting,” Gwen said sharply. “And you are <em>not </em>to inform Morgana, she’s not well. Now, I need to get these washed.” She curtsied. “Sire.” Then she looked to Mordred and said, “Go and check on Merlin, you little gremlin.”</p><p>A confused smile broke out on Mordred’s face, but he shook his head nonetheless. “Can’t leave Arthur’s side until Merlin is properly back.”</p><p>              “But he’s back now,” Gwen said, her brow furrowing.</p><p>              “No he’s not,” Mordred said. “Don’t you feel it? Things aren’t over yet.”</p><p>              “What do you mean, ‘feel it’?” Arthur asked, a sharper edge to his voice.</p><p>Mordred blinked owlishly at him. “You can’t sense it in the air?”</p><p>Gwen gave the slightest shake of her head, trying to convey the fact that normal people didn't feel things in the air.</p><p>              “It’s like Merlin’s bad feelings,” Mordred continued, his eyes flicking to Gwen for just a second before returning to Arthur. “I get…something similar.”</p><p>Arthur relaxed back into his bed. “Ah, you also have Merlin’s bullshit ‘bad feelings.’”</p><p>              “Sire!” Gwen exclaimed, taken aback. “You can’t swear like that around Mordred!”</p><p>              “I can’t?” Arthur frowned.</p><p>              “No, you can’t,” Gwen said. “He’s still young, and it’s inappropriate.”</p><p>              “But I’ve sworn around him before,” Arthur said blankly. “He knows the word ‘bullshit’ already, why does it make a difference?”</p><p>              “Knowing of a word and hearing it used in casual conversation are two very different things,” Gwen said, stiff. “It’s inappropriate.”</p><p>Arthur opened and closed his mouth before saying, cold, “You <em>do </em>know that I’m the Prince of Camelot, right?”</p><p>Gwen straightened, her expression falling away into blankness as she dipped her chin at the reminder. It was completely inappropriate for her to be scolding Arthur in such a way. “Of course, sire. Will that be all?”</p><p>              “What?” Arthur seemed perturbed by her sudden change in demeanour but—he was the one who’d brought up rank. “Guinevere, I—”</p><p>              “I have a job to do,” Gwen said. “I apologise for wasting your time, my lord.”</p><p>With those words, she spun on her heel and tucked the laundry basket under her arm before striding out, head held high.</p><p>Just before the door closed behind her, she heard Mordred spit out, “<em>Asshole</em>,” but she couldn’t find it in herself to tell him off.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin wasn’t sure what to make of Mordred glaring at him throughout his entire goodbye to Arthur.</p><p>The prince was up now, with just his arm in a sling, but still wasn’t able to leave his chambers, under Gaius’ orders; although Arthur would normally disobey them by pulling rank, Uther had been worried enough this time that he’d positioned guards outside to keep Arthur in.</p><p>Which meant that Mordred was still staying put in Arthur’s chambers, his legs swinging back and forth as he sat at the dining table, reading one of Arthur’s books on tactics.</p><p>              “Ah, Merlin,” Arthur said as he poured himself a glass of wine one-handedly.</p><p>              “How are you?” Merlin asked, biting his lip.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to die.</em>
</p><p>              “Good,” Arthur answered in a measured voice. “Have you come to remove your demon of a cousin yet?”</p><p>Merlin flashed a grin, surprised to find that Mordred’s scowl only darkened. “I…no?”</p><p>              “You should be removing him,” Arthur said. “He hasn’t left for more than a few minutes in the entire time I’ve been conscious. I’ve had to just start ignoring him.”</p><p>              “He’s doing a terrible job at that,” Mordred said from his seat, flicking to the next page. “He keeps on telling me about the best parts of this book.”</p><p>Arthur flushed when Merlin raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>              “It’s—a good book! I just wanted to make sure he’s making the most of it.”</p><p>              “He told me that I’m incredibly brave for standing up to his father, even if I’m also stupid.”</p><p>His cheeks darkening, Arthur quickly said, “He was!”</p><p>              “He wants to train me how to fight,” Mordred said flatly, meeting Merlin’s gaze head on.</p><p>              “He wants to <em>what</em>?”</p><p>This was…not what Merlin had expected to hear when he came to say goodbye to his friend.</p><p>Arthur was so incredibly bright red that he matched his cloak. “He’s…brave. He could make a good fighter, one day. You know. If he wants to.”</p><p>              “Do you want to learn how to fight?” Merlin asked Mordred, who shrugged.</p><p>              “That’s not important right now.”</p><p>Frowning, Merlin said, “Yes, it is.”</p><p>              ‘<em>Considering that you’re intending to sacrifice yourself today,</em>’ Mordred said icily, ‘<em>I don’t think it is.</em>’</p><p>Ah. Yes.</p><p>That.</p><p>Merlin hadn’t thought that Mordred would know.</p><p>              “We need to talk,” he said suddenly, surprising even himself. “Mordred you need—I need to talk to Arthur.”</p><p>Mordred’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t take his eyes off Merlin as he very pointedly turned the page to his book and said nothing.</p><p>              “He didn’t leave to give the king a moment with his son who almost died, why do you think he’ll do so now?” Arthur scoffed.</p><p>              ‘<em>Yeah, why would I leave now?</em>’ Mordred asked in his head.</p><p>Merlin didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction, just maintaining eye contact with Mordred. ‘<em>Because you know what I’m about to do, and you want to respect that enough to give me a minute alone with Arthur.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>No. I don’t.</em>’</p><p>              ‘<em>Please, Mordred. He’s—he’s supposed to be my destiny, and I’ve </em>killed<em> to see the world he’s going to create except…now I’m not. Because I can’t let my mother die.</em>’</p><p>Mordred bit his lip, a sign of his weakening resolve, but shook his head again. “No,” he said out loud. “I’m not going to leave. Anything you want to say to Arthur, I can hear too.”</p><p>              “That’s…remarkably presumptuous of you,” Arthur said, frowning.</p><p>              “Fine,” Merlin sighed, realising that he wasn’t going to get Mordred to leave unless he said something cruel. And he didn’t want to do that, not in his last day with him. He finally broke eye contact with Mordred and turned to his prince. “Arthur, you’re a prat. A royal one.”</p><p>Arthur blinked, then chuckled a little disbelievingly. “<em>That’s </em>what you wanted to tell me? Are you <em>ever </em>going to change, Merlin?”</p><p>              “No,” Merlin said quickly, too quickly. “You’d get bored. But—promise me that if you get another servant, don’t get a bootlicker.”</p><p>              “If this is you trying to leave your job…”</p><p>              “No.” Merlin swallowed down his tears, because he would not cry right now. No. He refused to. “I’m happy to be your servant until the day I die.”</p><p>Arthur was about to retort something, but he paused, as if hearing something in Merlin’s voice. He twisted his head to give Merlin a contemplative look. “Sometimes, I think I know you, Merlin. Other times…”</p><p>              “Well, I know you,” Merlin said. “You’re a great warrior. And-and one day, you’ll be a great king.”</p><p>              “That’s very kind of you,” Arthur said, surprised, like he thought there was going to be a catch.</p><p>And there was; Merlin couldn’t leave Arthur like this, without trying to do one last thing for him. “You’ve got to learn to listen as well as you fight.”</p><p>              “Any other pointers?” Arthur rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his goblet.</p><p>              “No,” Merlin said. “Just…don’t be a prat.”</p><p>He considered saying something, something about how much he cared about Arthur; he wished he could explain that he didn’t want to die, he wanted more time, but he couldn’t let his mother die in his place.</p><p>So, with that, he left.</p><p>              ‘<em>Don’t I get a dramatic, foreshadowing goodbye speech too?</em>’ Mordred asked in the back of his head once the door had closed behind him, the sarcasm undercut by the tremble in his mental voice.</p><p>              ‘<em>No,</em>’ Merlin said. ‘<em>Because you already know how much I love you.</em>’</p><p>A general feeling of speechlessness was conveyed, and Merlin strode away.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>              “Did you understand a word of that?” Arthur asked Mordred, who hopefully – as Merlin’s cousin – understand the servant a little better.</p><p>Mordred shrugged, and Arthur frowned when he wiped his eyes. “I thought you were ignoring me.”</p><p>              “I am,” Arthur immediately said. “But—I don’t understand why Merlin said those things to me. It sounded remarkably like…”</p><p><em>Like Merlin was saying goodbye</em>.</p><p>              “Like what?” Mordred asked, raising an eyebrow in a near exact imitation of Morgana.</p><p>Arthur shook his head. “No, it’s can’t be.” He paused and then added, “You need to stop spending time around Morgana. You’re getting…mean. You used to just be weird and stare at me too much.”</p><p>              “You were mean to Gwen, so I get to be mean back,” Mordred said flatly, like this was something obvious.</p><p>Taken aback, Arthur asked, “<em>What</em>?”</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” Mordred added before Arthur could say anything more, “I know you’re just struggling with your gross and romantic feelings for her.”</p><p>Arthur gaped at him for a full minute before screeching, “MORGANA!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Emrys wasn’t dead.</p><p>Mordred gaped as Emrys rode up into the courtyard, very much alive, with Gaius on a second horse behind him.</p><p>              “You—” he managed to choke out, before he was sprinting down the stairs, almost tripping on one, and tugging Emrys down from the horse to squeeze him in a hug.</p><p>And—yes, he was there. Physically there. Not a ghost or spirit.</p><p>Emrys was alive.</p><p>              “So, I’m not dead,” Merlin murmured.</p><p>Mordred choked on a laugh, pressing his face into Emrys’ jacket to hide from the world that felt all too much right then. ‘<em>You don’t say</em>.’</p><p>              “Some shit happened.”</p><p>              ‘<em>You don’t say.</em>’</p><p>Emrys crouched down, until he was level with Mordred and his head was resting on his shoulder too. “I’m sorry, for making you think I was going to die,” he said, even more quietly this time.</p><p>              ‘<em>You shouldn’t have done that,</em>’ Mordred agreed.</p><p>              “And…I’m sorry for not saying a proper goodbye.”</p><p>              ‘<em>You should have given me one.</em>’</p><p>Emrys nodded. “And I’m sorry trying to make you leave so I could talk with Arthur privately.”</p><p>After pausing for a moment, Mordred said, ‘<em>That one was understandable.</em>’</p><p>              “That doesn’t mean it didn’t upset you,” Emrys said</p><p>              “It <em>did</em> upset me,” Mordred said, quiet. “Very much.”</p><p>              “Which is why I’m apologising. It was wrong—I can’t take in a child and not realise that that means something different.” Emrys shook his head. “I risk my life all the time, and I thought this was the same thing, but—”</p><p>Mordred cut him off. “It wasn’t.”</p><p>              “Gaius explained that to me,” Emrys said. “I think—well, he did what I was going to do. He sacrificed himself for my mother. And he left with just a letter, and I thought that was a bit shitty of him – to not tell me in person, explain things. Then I realised that was basically what I’d done. So…yeah.”</p><p>Mordred nodded. “It was shitty. It felt like…I don’t know. It made me feel like you didn’t care enough.”</p><p>Like Emrys had said, walking into danger was very different to sacrificing himself; Emrys had been certain that he was going to die, but he didn’t even bother saying a proper goodbye and that—hurt.</p><p>              “I do care,” Emrys said, voice soft as Morgana’s fur shawl. “So, so much.”</p><p>              “Why didn’t you say that?”</p><p>              “Because I was scared,” Emrys said, and—there was honesty there, honesty that took Mordred aback.</p><p>He’d only ever seen the Emrys who’d thrown himself into danger at every opportunity.</p><p>              “Scared that if I took too long to think about it, I’d never leave. And I couldn’t do that, couldn’t murder my mother.”</p><p>              “You would have gone.” Mordred’s words reverberated in his very soul as the utter, utter truth. “You would have saved your mother anyway.”</p><p>Emrys pulled back a short distance and tilted his head to one side. “You think so?” It wasn’t an adult (not that Emrys was one anyway) talking down to a child, like Mordred normally experienced in Camelot; it was a genuine question asked of someone whose opinion Emrys thought mattered. Something warm, pride, bloomed in Mordred's chest.</p><p>              “I do,” he said simply.</p><p>Emrys scanned his face, as if searching for a lie, for a few minutes, and then his face split open in a grin. It was infectious; a second later, Mordred was grinning too.</p><p>              “You’re awesome, Mordred,” Emrys said. “Just so you know.”</p><p>              “You really think so?”</p><p>              “I do,” Emrys said solemnly, echoing Mordred’s earlier words.</p><p>              “Cool,” Mordred said, a little awkwardly.</p><p><em>Emrys </em>had said that he was awesome. That was a memory to hold close to his heart. And rub in Kara's face.</p><p>              “Now,” Mordred said, his face lighting up, “you need to tell me about the Isle.”</p><p>              “Have you not been?” Merlin asked, curious. “I thought it was an important place for the Old Religion.”</p><p>              “The elders say we can’t, because Camelot sometimes sends patrols there, and it’s a dangerous place now.”</p><p>              “Well,” Emrys said. “That simply <em>won’t do</em>.”</p><p>And so he started spinning a story that was very obviously exaggerated in places, but it was funny and then Mordred was laughing and laughing and couldn’t stop.</p><p>They stayed in the courtyard, at the bottom of the steps, until Gwen came out to ask if they were alright.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin knocked Gwen’s door, his knuckles rapping against the wood. He only waited a second before knocking again, for longer than was generally considered polite.</p><p>              “Gwen?” he called a second later. “Are you alright?”</p><p>According to Morgana, she hadn’t shown up for work that morning, and Merlin hadn’t seen her for their daily gossip on the way to the kitchens as they fetched breakfast for their masters. Technically, Gwen wasn’t very late yet, but she was normally up bright and early.</p><p>Merlin tried to peer in through the window, but the shutters were half-closed and made it hard to see if Gwen was in her house. He couldn’t feel any magic, but people could be attacked in other ways.</p><p>And…people didn’t always need to be attacked to be in danger.</p><p>              “Gwen?” he asked, banging against her door again. The wood shook, but there was still no response. “Gwen, is there something wrong?”</p><p>Still no reply. Merlin glanced around, checking that no one was watching him, before hissing a quick spell that had the lock clicking open, and door swung inwards.</p><p>He felt bad about entering Gwen’s house without asking, but he was worried about her. Better to ask forgiveness than permission and all that.</p><p>              “Gwen?” he said again, softer this time as he scanned the inside of her house.</p><p>Everything seemed to be in its proper place, with no signs of a struggle, but there was also no Gwen.</p><p>He moved further inside, trying to keep his footsteps quiet on the stone slabs.</p><p>A muffled sob reached his ears, and Merlin immediately stilled. It came from behind the woven screen, at the far end of Gwen’s house.</p><p>              “Gwen? Is that you?”</p><p>He rounded the corner, a sudden burst of motion, but frowned when he couldn’t see anything; then he slid his gaze downward to find Gwen hunched up on the floor.</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>              “Gwen?” he said, for about the tenth time. This time, though, he crouched down so they were roughly eye-level, and bit his lip as he carefully studied her.</p><p>Gwen’s back was pressed to the wall, her knees pulled up, as she sobbed into her hands. She looked ready for work in her sunshine-yellow dress, and Merlin wondered what had happened.</p><p>He reached out to gingerly lay a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, not sure what else he could do. She stiffened, freezing in her place.</p><p>              “It’s just me,” he hurried to say. “Merlin.”</p><p>Gwen’s shoulders slumped a little, and she raised her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she hastily wiped them before giving him a watery smile. “Merlin, what are you doing here?” she asked, a fake cheer to her voice.</p><p>              “Me and Morgana didn’t see you this morning,” Merlin said as gently as he could. “We were worried about you.”</p><p>              “I’m fine,” Gwen said. “You don’t need to worry about me.” The words were rather undermined by the way her breathing hitched halfway through, shoulders shaking in another silent sob.</p><p>              “I absolutely do need to worry about you,” Merlin told her, and pushed forward to squeeze into the small gap between Gwen and the end of her bed. “What’s wrong? You don’t have to tell me, or anything, but…I might be able to help. Maybe. Depends what the problem is.”</p><p>Gwen was silent, her hands clenching atop her knees.</p><p>              “I can also be a good listener,” Merlin continued. “If I need to be. If…you need me to be? Of course, Arthur doesn’t think so, but Mordred says I’m good when he has nightmares, so there’s that, I guess.”</p><p>When Gwen took a deep breath in, Merlin immediately cut his rambling off. “You’re…you’re really demonstrating your ability to listen,” she said a little wetly, obviously trying to tease him.</p><p>Merlin went with it; if Gwen didn’t want to talk, then she didn’t want to talk. So he let out a squawk, pulling an offended face. “How dare you! I am the best listener in all the castle – nay, all the kingdom – nay—”</p><p>              “Alright, alright,” Gwen said, laughing, her cheeks dimpling, even as the tear tracks remained. “I take it back.”</p><p>              “Good,” Merlin said, settling back down on the floor. He bumped her shoulder with his own. “You know, we can talk about Lancelot, if you want.”</p><p>              “<em>Merlin</em>!” Gwen exclaimed, looking down. “That’s not…”</p><p>              “Arthur, then.”</p><p>Gwen reddened, and shook her head, but she was grinning at him. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”</p><p>              “<em>Am</em> I, though?”</p><p>              “Yes,” Gwen giggled, “you are.”</p><p>              “Hmm.” Merlin shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that.”</p><p>Gwen bumped his shoulder back. “Are you sure you aren’t projecting?”</p><p>              “About Lancelot?” Merlin asked.</p><p>              “Sure,” Gwen said shrugging, before giving him a sly look out of the corner of her eye. “Or Arthur.”</p><p>              “As much as I think Lancelot is hot,” Merlin said, which made Gwen giggle again, “and that Arthur spends far too little time shirtless for someone with abs like his…”</p><p>Gwen didn’t even try to suppress her laughter, throwing her head back; Merlin joined in, laughing loudly and freely until his lungs were aching for air.</p><p>              “You,” Gwen told him once she’d caught her breath, “are one of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever met.”</p><p>              “Eh,” Merlin shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”</p><p>Gwen side-eyed him. “So…Arthur, then?”</p><p>Merlin pulled a face at thought. “Oh, gods, no. He’s attractive, but I’d never think of him like that.”</p><p>              “You’re very devoted to him for someone who’s just his servant,” Gwen teased.</p><p>              “Nah,” Merlin said. “He’s just…Arthur. Of course I’m devoted to him. I’m not in love with him or anything. You, on the other hand…”</p><p>Gwen snorted, her shoulders shaking. “Don’t be silly, Merlin. Nothing can ever happen between us.”</p><p>              “But…you do want something to happen?”</p><p>              “I can’t,” Gwen said, “so there’s no point in wondering.”</p><p>Merlin shrugged. “Just curious.”</p><p>It didn’t escape his notice that Gwen’s knuckles were still pale, clenched around her knees; Gwen caught him looking, and she sighed.</p><p>              “I’m…upset.”</p><p>              “I can see that,” Merlin murmured, brushing a hand on Gwen’s; she took it, clutching tightly. “Do you…want to talk about it?”</p><p>Gwen worried at her lip, staring down at her and Merlin’s entwined hands for a long moment before whispering, “I just miss him so much.”</p><p><em>Ah</em>.</p><p>Merlin went cold, understanding washing through him like a tidal wave, but he didn’t say anything, just letting Gwen speak.</p><p>              “I—I don’t…how can I live without my dad?”</p><p>Turning to him with eyes welling up with tears again, Gwen buried her face in Merlin’s shoulder.</p><p>              “I can’t—I’m all alone, mum left and Elyan left and now dad’s left too and I’m alone and I <em>can’t</em>—”</p><p>Merlin gently stroked a hand across Gwen’s hair, knowing from experience that his fingers would get all tangled up if he tried to run them through it. “I know it’s not the same,” he said, soft as the kitchen cat, “but we’re here for you. Me, Mordred, Morgana, Gaius – hell, even Arthur. If you <em>ever</em> need anything, you know you can just ask.”</p><p>He didn’t ask about the way Gwen stiffened minutely at the mention of Arthur; he needed to focus on one thing at a time.</p><p>              “I…I know,” Gwen sniffled. “I just…” She lifted her head, wiping away her tears with a finger. “Sorry about crying on you.”</p><p>              “It’s cool,” Merlin said with a shrug. “I live with Gaius and Mordred, so I’ve had a <em>lot </em>worse on these clothes.”</p><p>              “I’m not going to comment on that right now,” Gwen told him, “but I will be a later date.”</p><p>Merlin grinned. “I’ll look forward to it.”</p><p>Her face falling again, Gwen took a deep breath in. “I don’t know what happened. I was doing fine, and I was doing fine, and then…this morning, I was getting ready to leave the house, and everything just sort of…hit me.”</p><p>              “Grief’s like that,” Merlin said. “Did something suddenly remind you of your dad?”</p><p>Gwen hiccupped, and nodded, her eyes welling up again. She glanced at a simple wooden box on her bedside table. “I…my hair flower.”</p><p>              “Your hair flower?” Merlin repeated, confused.</p><p>              “On mum’s side of the family, the women passed down the method for this special type of plait,” Gwen whispered, barely audible. “There’s these…they’re nothing compared to Morgana’s beautiful ornaments. But we have these carved flowers. You need them to do the plait properly. When mum died, dad wasn’t…wasn’t there, for a while. The first thing he did when he was coming back to us was sit down and ask my grandmother to teach him how to plait my hair. He…he’s done it ever since. <em>Did </em>it.”</p><p>              <em>“Oh,”</em> Merlin said. “I’m…so, so sorry.”</p><p>              “It just…I saw the flowers, and they just made me realise that. That he’s <em>gone</em>. And he’s not coming back. And it’s kind of like I’ve also lost my last connection with my mum.”</p><p>Merlin nodded, silent.</p><p>              “Anyway,” Gwen said, pulling a handkerchief out of the pocket in her skirt to scrub at her eyes with. “That’s enough of that.” She got to her feet and brushed dust off her dress. “I need to attend to my lady.”</p><p>Merlin very suddenly noticed that Gwen’s hair was loose, curling down her shoulders. And…she hadn’t had it up <em>constantly </em>before Tom’s death, but she'd certainly had it done less since.</p><p>              “I can learn how to do it,” he said very suddenly.</p><p>Gwen blinked, pausing in the middle of clearing up her breakfast plate. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>              “I can…learn to do your hair. If you want.”</p><p>There was a moment’s pause, and Merlin worried he’d said something wrong and opened his mouth to apologise, but then Gwen was breathing out, “You’d really do that?”</p><p>              “Of course,” Merlin said. “You’re my friend.”</p><p>Then he was being squeezed in a hug. Gwen was a good deal shorter than him – more than half a foot – so she only went up to his chin; the perfect height to slot into, with his chin resting on the top of her head. He wrapped his arms around her too, patting her back gently.</p><p>              “Thank you, Merlin,” Gwen said. “Thank you.”</p><p>              “Don’t thank me yet,” Merlin said. “You haven’t seen my braiding skills.”</p><p>Gwen huffed a laugh, and pulled back just enough to look up at him. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. And—even if they’re not, thank you for…offering.”</p><p>              “You’re…welcome?” Merlin said, a little uncomfortable under Gwen’s adoring gaze. “It’s what anyone would do, really.”</p><p>              “No, it’s not,” Gwen said. “I’d like to think it is, but…no, it’s not.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. It sounded a lot like she was speaking from personal experience, but he didn’t push. “Well, should we get started then?”</p><p>Gwen smiled, soft and small. “Yeah.”</p><p>              “Okay,” Merlin said. “So what do I do with…the hair?”</p><p>              “You,” Gwen told him, laughing as she tapped his nose before moving over to her jewellery box, “are off to a terrible start.”</p><p>Merlin grinned back at her. “But not terribly terrible, right?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was feeling far too short, but then the last scene, with Merlin and Gwen, just came to me. I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you liked it, and it didn't feel too out of place with the rest of the chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Merlin and Mordred get in some trouble while preparing to leave for the autumn equinox celebrations, and Arthur realises he messed up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this is now a series! I wrote a short, one chapter, story (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184528">'thoughts of wildflowers'</a>) that's about Gwen, Leon and Elyan when they were younger! It's technically canon-compliant, but I introduced some minor details in it that are probably going to be making an appearance in this story, later on.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              “Do you know where Merlin is?” Arthur asked the second Gwen opened the door.</p><p>She blinked at his abruptness, then straightened, pasting a polite smile on her face. “My apologies, sire, but I do not.”</p><p>Arthur nodded, turning to leave, and Gwen started to shut the door, but then Arthur stuttered and twisted to shove his foot in the door.</p><p>              “Wait!”</p><p>Gwen frowned, pressing on the door until she realised that she was crushing the Prince of Camelot’s foot; then she let go, opening the door fully again. It wouldn’t be good to give him <em>another </em>injury, not while he was still healing from his last.</p><p>              “Yes, sire?”</p><p>              “I…” Arthur’s face twisted into a confused frown. “Why are you being so formal? I thought we were on good terms, Guinevere.”</p><p>Gwen stiffened, and lifted her chin even as she flushed. “I don’t know what you mean, sire.”</p><p>              “Well, you made me realise the error of my ways when we were in Ealdor,” Arthur said. “You weren’t afraid to shout at me then, but now you’re so formal. You have been for the last three weeks, ever since I recovered from the Questing Beast’s bite.”</p><p>Gwen bit her lip, because it sounded like Arthur genuinely didn’t know that what he’d said that had freaked her out, but…it had been a reminder that she was not his equal and shouldn’t be talking to him like that.</p><p>              “It’s nothing, sire,” she said. “And I’m afraid I don’t know where Merlin is.”</p><p>              “Probably out ‘picking herbs’ again,” Arthur grumbled under his breath.</p><p>              “With all due respect, sire, aren’t you supposed to be training Mordred right now?” Gwen said, trying to be polite as possible.</p><p>Mordred had been jumping up and down with excitement when he’d told Gwen that Arthur was going to train him how to fight.</p><p>              “I am,” Arthur said, “which is why I’m looking for Merlin. Gaius said the two of them were together when they left this morning, but Mordred wasn’t at the training grounds when he was supposed to be. And Merlin didn’t wake me either.”</p><p>Her brow furrowing, Gwen said, “That doesn’t sound like them.”</p><p>              “It doesn’t sound like <em>Mordred</em>,” Arthur corrected. “Merlin often doesn’t show up when he’s supposed to.”</p><p>On an ordinary day, Gwen might have laughed along and agreed with Arthur; this wasn’t an ordinary day, though, because Arthur had forced that distance between them, and Gwen wasn’t sure where she stood with him.</p><p>When Gwen didn’t laugh, Arthur didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so he placed them on his hips.</p><p>              “Well, uh. If you—if you see either of them? Could you tell them to, erm, come to the training grounds?”</p><p>              “Yes, sire,” Gwen said. “Will that be all?”</p><p>Arthur stared at her for a while, and Gwen rose an eyebrow the longer and longer she waited.</p><p>              “Sire?”</p><p>              “What?” He blinked. “Oh, yes. Yeah. That’s...all.”</p><p>Gwen nodded, the movement small and neat, before closing Morgana’s door. As soon as she had, and Arthur was out of sight, she let out a deep breath.</p><p>              “What was <em>that </em>about?” Morgana’s familiar voice asked, and Gwen almost jumped.</p><p>              “Prince Arthur said something that…confused me, a few weeks ago,” Gwen said honestly. “I don’t want to overstep my position as your maidservant.”</p><p>Morgana’s brow creased. “What did that ass do <em>now</em>?”</p><p>              “He reminded me that he was the Prince of Camelot,” Gwen said. “And I’m just a maid. It’s been—inappropriate of me to talk to him like I have.”</p><p>              “He did <em>what</em>?” Anger was brewing on Morgana’s face, in the sharp downturn of her mouth and set of her brow.</p><p>              “Milady, I—”</p><p>              “He doesn’t get to say that to you,” Morgana snapped. “I need to give him a piece of my mind—” She reached for the door handle, but Gwen caught her wrist.</p><p>              “Milady,” she said, more forcefully, “it’s fine. Really.”</p><p>              “It most certainly is not is not,” Morgana said, “and, based on his reaction, he shares my view. He’s just a fool who lacks basic analysis skills; he won’t have made the connection between his words last week and your reaction to them.”</p><p>Gwen blinked. “But…”</p><p>              “So I will be <em>enlightening</em> him,” Morgana said. “And if my afternoon schedule happens to have cleared itself, freeing up all my time to be spent on this—well, who can say?”</p><p>Her annoyance and worry fading into amusement, Gwen echoed, “Who can say?”</p><p>              “<em>I </em>certainly couldn’t,” Morgana continued, “and neither could my dutiful maid. No, but please extend my most sincere apologies to the Lady Truyan, and tell her that we simply <em>must </em>ride at another time.”</p><p>Gwen bobbed into a curtsey, a smile growing on her face. “Of course.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>              “Why did I agree to do this again?” Merlin groaned, trying (unsuccessfully) to swing up so the blood stopped rushing to his head.</p><p>              ‘<em>Because you wanted to take a nice offering to the equinox celebrations,</em>’ Mordred said, a little frantic. ‘<em>I swear I didn’t realise we’d get ambushed!</em>’</p><p>              “You didn’t say we had to go this far into the woods to get basil grown under a bay tree,” Merlin said, “but it’s fine. These brutes can’t keep us for long.”</p><p>              “Hey!” one of the bandits shouted, crossing from the huddle to smack the back of Merlin’s head. “Shut it!”</p><p>              “Why does this remind me of Arthur?” Merlin wondered aloud, and the bandit hit him again, harder this time.</p><p>              “I <em>said</em>, shut it.”</p><p>              “I heard you the first time,” Merlin said, “but I’m not known for stopping myself from talking, you see.”</p><p>Mordred frowned, his discontent making itself clear on his face. ‘<em>Why are you doing this? These people are dangerous, and unless you’re going to use your magic, you can’t—</em>’</p><p>Merlin cut him off, by using his magic to release himself so he slammed down into the ground, air shooting out of him with an ‘oof’ as the shock pulsed through him.</p><p>              “Gods, I always forget that I’m in the air,” Merlin groaned, even as the bandit looked at him in horror.</p><p>              “You—you—”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “What?”</p><p>The bandit’s gaping face turned back and forth between the now-empty net, and the very much un-trapped Merlin. “You got yourself—but how…”</p><p>Merlin waved his hand, whispering a quick spell before the bandit could make too much noise, and the man fell to the ground, asleep.</p><p>              “You’re using magic?”</p><p>Mordred sounded utterly, utterly shocked, and Merlin supposed it had been months since the young druid had seen him use magic; that was something that would need to be corrected. It would probably be good for him to see Merlin as a sorcerer in Camelot, because else you could feel very alone.</p><p>              “It’s not like anyone here’s going to report me,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Now, come on, let’s get you down.”</p><p>Once Mordred was down on the ground – not falling, because he had Merlin to catch him – he shook his limbs out, rolling his neck.</p><p>              “Don’t like hanging upside down,” he said. “Made my head ache.”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said. “I think that’s normal. So, we should just run off, because I don’t want to fight more people right now. And you’re probably late to your training.”</p><p>Mordred paled. “Fuck!”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “Oh…no. You aren’t allowed to swear like that.”</p><p>              “Why not?” Mordred asked, his nose scrunching up.</p><p>              “Because Gwen will blame me,” Merlin said as they started off in the direction of Camelot, through the forest, “and I don’t want Gwen to blame me, when it isn’t even my fault.”</p><p>              “You’ve said fuck around me.”</p><p>              “Not <em>often</em>,” Merlin said, knowing he sounded a lot like he was complaining. “It’s <em>Morgana</em> who swears the most.”</p><p>Mordred tilted his head to one side in consideration, and then shrugged. “That’s true.”</p><p>They walked for a while longer, and Merlin was glad when they didn’t hear the sounds of angry bandits chasing after them.</p><p>              “We aren’t going to get my offering for the celebrations, are we?” he realised.</p><p>Shaking his head, Mordred said, “No.”</p><p>              “That’s not good,” Merlin said, sagging. “I wanted to make a good first impression.”</p><p>              “You’ve already made a terrible one,” Mordred told him, grinning. “Everyone knows I stayed with Emrys and then came back swearing and being mean and stuff.”</p><p>Rubbing his face, Merlin let out a groan. “Gods!”</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” Mordred said, his voice gentler this time. “Iseldir made it clear to everyone that you’re going to be there as, like, a normal person. Not Emrys.”</p><p>              “Embers,” Merlin corrected. “Or just Merlin.”</p><p>Mordred’s face scrunched up. “But no one else is around.”</p><p>              “Gaius says it’s good to form habits,” Merlin said. “If you get used to it, then it means you’re less likely to mess up.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said. “Can I call you Emrys at the equinox feast? No one there will know who I mean, otherwise.”</p><p>Merlin straightened. “No, you can—you can call me Emrys there.”</p><p>He really didn’t want them to think he was any weirder; the druids were already probably disappointed in him, given everything so far.</p><p>Something softened in Mordred’s expression, and Merlin hoped none of his thoughts had shown themselves on his face.</p><p>              “You don’t need to bring an offering,” he said.</p><p>Merlin blinked. “You don’t?”</p><p>              “No,” Mordred said. “I mean—no one would be <em>annoyed</em>. But. It’s not something you have to have.”</p><p>              “Then why did you say I did?” Merlin asked, bewildered.</p><p>Mordred’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away. “…Because it tastes nice?”</p><p>              “Mordred!” Merlin exclaimed, annoyed. “You mean we’ve spent half a day in the forest, getting caught by bandits along the way, and we didn’t even need to?”</p><p>There was a pause, and then Mordred very quietly said, “…perhaps.”</p><p>              “Ugh,” Merlin groaned. “You’re going to be late for your training thing with Arthur, and then he’s going to blame me, and then he’ll be really annoying for weeks.”</p><p>              “We’re not going to be here for weeks,” Mordred pointed out. “The autumn equinox is only four days away.”</p><p>              “Arthur can hold a grudge for <em>much</em> longer than that,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “Oh.” Mordred seemed to shrink in on himself, shoulders hunching as his gaze slid down to the ground. “S-sorry, Embers.”</p><p><em>Ah, fuck</em>, Merlin thought. He’d gone too far with his joking complaints, and Mordred didn’t know him well enough yet to know he didn't really mean them.</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” he hurried to say, “I don’t mean it. My, uh, complaining, I mean. I’m just—that’s what I do. I didn’t mean it.”</p><p>Confusion made itself clear on Mordred’s face. Confusion, and a tinge of hope. “You…don’t?”</p><p>Merlin didn’t know why Mordred would care about his opinion <em>that </em>much, but he didn’t say anything about that; instead, he just said, “No. It’s like when I complain about Arthur. He’s irritating, sure, but I go on far more than I really need to.”</p><p>              “Why?”</p><p>              “Because it’s fun,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Lets my frustrations out.” He paused, considering whether he should add the last part of his thoughts, and decided that it couldn’t do that much harm. “With—everything that I <em>can’t </em>say, I find I need to let out the shit – sorry, stuff – that I can.”</p><p>              “Oh.” Mordred’s brow creased. “So…you’re not mad?”</p><p>              “I’m a bit annoyed,” Merlin said, “but not mad, no.”</p><p>Mordred sagged, relieved, the tensing line of his shoulders relaxing. “That’s good.”</p><p>              “Why were you worried?” Merlin asked, curious. “I know that upsetting people can be bad, but I’m <em>terrible </em>at holding grudges. I’d be angry for about a night, at most.”</p><p>              “Well…” Mordred gestured up and down Merlin’s body, like that explained anything. “You’re <em>you</em>. I can’t—I don’t want to disappoint you.”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “Of course you’re not disappointing me. This is just…I don’t know. You being annoying.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said, “okay.”</p><p>              “What I don’t get, though,” Merlin continued, “is why you chose to tell me I needed to bring a gift, <em>today</em>. This is your first day of training, and you’ve been excited, but now you’re going to be late.”</p><p>Mordred looked away, his cheeks reddening and his hands shoving into his pockets. “Forgot,” he muttered, under his breath and unconvincing.</p><p>              “Uh-huh,” Merlin said, doubtful. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I’m just surprised that you don’t actually want to learn how to fight with a sword. Because you’ve been really looking forward to it. I think? Unless you were just soothing Arthur’s ego.”</p><p>              “No, no!” Mordred practically yelped. “I’ve been really, really excited. It’s just…” He bit his lip and shook his head.</p><p>              “Are you worried?” Merlin asked, confused. Will, the only friend he’d had growing up, loved swinging his sword around; every friend he’d made since arriving at Camelot knew how to fight in some way, shape, or form.</p><p>Mordred made a frustrated noise, shaking his head as he struggled for the words to properly express himself. “That’s not—I’ve never—at home, we don’t fight. Ever.”</p><p>              “Yeah, the druids are peaceful,” Merlin said slowly, nodding as he tried to understand what Mordred was telling him.</p><p>              “It’s—I want to learn to wield a sword. But…it goes against what I’ve been taught. We don’t hurt people. Not at all. We heal, and maybe – <em>maybe</em> – defend ourselves if we’re in proper danger. But we don’t hurt people.”</p><p>              “Whoever said anything about you hurting people?” Merlin asked, genuinely confused. “This is just Arthur wanting to show you how to use a sword. You don’t have to hurt anyone. Except maybe, I don’t know, bruise them a little?”</p><p>Mordred’s nose scrunched up. “I don’t?”</p><p>              “Of course not,” Merlin said. “If Arthur tries to make you, just tell me and I will have <em>words </em>with him, okay?”</p><p>              “Okay,” Mordred said, nodding more energetically.</p><p>His next few steps were lighter, nearly skipping, and only then did Merlin realise that the druid had been oddly down for the last few days; this had clearly been weighing on him.</p><p>Except they were still going to be late for training.</p><p>              “I guess I’ve blown it for today, though,” Mordred said, deflating again. He was clearly trying very hard to keep from looking upset, but he wasn’t doing it very well.</p><p>Merlin glanced up at the sky, did a rough calculation about how long it would take to get back to Camelot, and what the time was right then…</p><p>              “You know what?” he said.</p><p>Mordred glanced over at him. “What?”</p><p>              “I reckon we can make it back in the next half an hour, if we run,” Merlin said. “That should give you a bit of training time?”</p><p>              “Really?” Mordred asked, brightening. “We’ll arrive in time?”</p><p>              “Well…I wouldn’t say ‘in time’,” Merlin had to admit, “but you won’t miss it completely.”</p><p>              “That’s good,” Mordred said.</p><p>              “But next time,” Merlin added, “just tell me if you’re worried about something.”</p><p>Mordred’s face set into something determined, and he nodded very seriously. “I will, Emrys.”</p><p>              “Embers,” Merlin corrected gently.</p><p>              “Embers,” Mordred repeated, then shook his head. “I <em>will </em>get it right.”</p><p>              “You just need to get used to it,” Merlin said. “I bet that once you have, it’ll be hard to call me Emrys.”</p><p>              “Never,” Mordred said, then a moment later, his face lit up. “Camelot!”</p><p>He raced forward, towards the castle that had just appeared above the trees, and Merlin followed him a moment later.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen blinked once, twice, at the sight that awaited her by the castle entrance.</p><p>Blossom trailed from Merlin’s jacket, fluttering off every now and then when he shifted a certain way. A bruise was purpling along his cheekbone, and his boots and the bottom of his trousers were dripping wet. Red liquid that closely resembled blood was dripping down his fingers.</p><p>              “What happened?” she asked, getting over her surprise enough to hurry over to her friend. “Are you all right?”</p><p>Merlin did an odd half-laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Completely fine.”</p><p>              “It’s just…” Gwen looked him up and down again, “You and Mordred were missing this morning, and then now you come back looking like you were in a fight.”</p><p>              “A <em>fight</em>?” Merlin repeated, sounding a little incredulous. “Of course I wasn’t in a fight. Mordred just—he pushed me into the river.”</p><p>Gwen’s brow creased. “You were in the forest?”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said, “collecting herbs.” He waved his hand vaguely. “You know, for when Mordred goes home.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Gwen said, nodding politely before the exact meaning registered in her mind and she realised that Merlin and Mordred had been collecting herbs for the druids; for <em>magic</em>. She straightened instinctively, her hands moving to clutch in her skirt. “<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>              “We didn’t find them,” Merlin continued, apparently oblivious to Gwen’s reaction – for which she was glad, because she was trying to be better, she really was.</p><p>              “That’s a shame,” she offered, then glanced at his bruised face and possibly-bleeding hand. “Do you want me to show you to Gaius?”</p><p>The only thing she received was a blank stare from Merlin.</p><p>              “For your injuries?”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “My injuries?”</p><p>              “Well, it looks like you knocked your face against something,” Gwen said, “and I think you’re bleeding?”</p><p>The bleeding hand went up to brush against the bruise, and at the sight of the blood he frowned. “I didn’t know I was bleeding.”</p><p>He pulled his sleeve up, and Gwen carefully took his arm to inspect the cut there. It wasn’t big, but she frowned at it.</p><p>              “How did you get this?”</p><p>Merlin shrugged, pulling his arm back. An odd expression flashed across his face for just a moment, there and then gone, and Gwen couldn’t help but think she recognised it. When had she seen him look like that before?</p><p>              “…I don’t know,” he said. “Must have…caught it on a bush. Or something.”</p><p>              “And the bruise?” Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow as she brushed a finger along the bruise in question. It was a rather nasty reddish-purple, a looked like it was going to worsen overnight.</p><p>              “Oh, <em>that</em> one was from when Mordred pushed me in the river,” Merlin said, a grin forming on his lips. “I landed fine – got my feet wet, as you can see – but, you know, tripped over a rock when I was getting back out. Landed face-first.”</p><p>Gwen wasn’t sure why she thought Merlin was lying, but she did. Except…why would he lie? It didn’t make any sense, so she just accepted his story with a nod and returned his smile with one of her own.</p><p>              “Where is Mordred?” she asked.</p><p>              “Training,” Merlin said, jerking his thumb towards the training grounds. “The royal prat can’t swing his sword yet, obviously, but he’s directing Mordred through all the motions with those stick things.”</p><p>              “Staffs,” Gwen supplied, actual laughter bubbling up out of her. “They’re called <em>staffs</em>, Merlin.”</p><p>He just shrugged. “How am I supposed to know that?”</p><p>              “Maybe because you’ve been Arthur’s manservant for…nine months now?”</p><p>              “Eh,” Merlin said. “I do my best to learn as little as possible.”</p><p>              “Anyway,” Gwen continued, “Arthur’s arm’s still bothering him?” Concern flickered through her, and she felt a bit bad for treating him coldly earlier when the Questing Beast’s bite was still healing.</p><p>But…well, she’d thought that he’d meant what he’d said three weeks before. Morgana had torn Arthur to <em>shreds</em> earlier for making Gwen feel like she’d overstepped her bounds, and Gwen had had to leave as Arthur slowly turned redder and redder until he looked like he was trying to camouflage himself in his cloak.</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. “He’s going to hurt himself even more if he keeps on doing shit with it.</p><p>              “Language," Gwen reprimanded. She was still incredibly embarrassed from when Merlin had mentioned, off-hand, that the druids hadn’t liked Mordred swearing. With words he’d learned from them.</p><p>              “Gaius keeps on telling me to get the prat to stop, so <em>I’m</em> the one getting in trouble,” Merlin said. “I think I’m entitled to a swear word here. Besides, Mordred’s not even around.”</p><p>              “You want Mordred to swear again when you take him back for the festival?” Gwen arched an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure exactly what the druidic festival was for – Mordred had said something about an equal length day? – but she did know that it was important to Mordred, so he was returning home for a few weeks.</p><p>Merlin shook his head violently. “<em>No</em>. Not again.” He shivered. “They all seemed to expect better of me. Like…three Gaius’ lined up, with the judgement turned up to eleven.”</p><p>              “You were responsible for one of their children,” Gwen pointed out. “We all were.”</p><p>              “Yeah…” Merlin said. He winced. “I <em>do </em>feel kind of bad about that.”</p><p>              “I heard him say ‘fuck’ the other day,” Gwen said, “which isn’t appropriate for an eleven-year-old.”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “Isn’t it?”</p><p>Sighing, Gwen said, “No, Merlin.”</p><p>              “I said fuck when I was eleven.”</p><p>So had Gwen, but that was before she was Morgana’s maid and was still a child thrust into a role too big for her: caring for her younger brother. Mordred wasn’t that, and didn’t have that responsibility and mindset. “That’s not the point, Merlin.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. “Okay. I’ll…try.” He paused, then grinned. “You’re the one who’s going to tell Morgana that.”</p><p>Gwen pulled a face too, because she loved her mistress very much but…Morgana wasn’t known for her restraint. Perhaps it was because of her status, and she had the king’s favour most of the time, but she’d just…never learned when to speak and when not to.</p><p>Sometimes it went spectacularly wrong, like just two months before, when Gwen’s father had died.</p><p><em>I don’t want to think about that</em>, Gwen thought firmly. <em>Now is not the time</em>.</p><p>              “I will,” she said, in answer to Merlin’s question. “But you have to back me up when I call her out on it.”</p><p>Merlin narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze considering, before he reluctantly nodded and held out his hand. “Deal.”</p><p>They shook, and Gwen realised too late that he hadn’t cleaned the blood off his hand yet.</p><p>She frowned, her face wrinkling, as she wiped it off with her other hand. “<em>Anyway</em>,” she said, “how Mordred’s training going? Is he enjoying it?”</p><p>Merlin nodded. “I think so. He thought he’d only get half an hour because we were so late, but Arthur said something about Morgana cancelling his schedule for the rest of the day, so they’re going to be training for longer.”</p><p>              “Ah,” Gwen said, flushing. “The cancelling…may have been me. Morgana asked me to clear her afternoon schedule, including the ride with Lady Truyan, to tell Arthur off.”</p><p>              “Truyan?” Merlin repeated. He considered the name for a second, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. Him. He’s an asshole, I’m glad you cancelled that.”</p><p>              “We <em>just </em>had a talk about language.” Gwen gave him a look. “I know that you have other insults you could use; I’ve heard you complaining about Arthur enough times.”</p><p>              “Yeah, but I reserve those insults for people like Arthur,” Merlin said. “Truyan is definitely an asshole.” When Gwen opened her mouth to disagree, he raised an eyebrow and said, “You’re going to tell me he’s <em>not</em>?”</p><p>Gwen closed her mouth, because, well…Merlin wasn’t entirely wrong. “I…” She trailed off.</p><p>Taking it as a victory, Merlin said, “Exactly! You can’t.”</p><p>              “He’s not the nicest person,” Gwen conceded. “And Lady Truyan…takes after her father.”</p><p>              “I don’t know <em>why</em> Arthur agreed to go on a ride with the two of them,” Merlin said, shaking his head.</p><p>              “He didn’t have much of a <em>choice,”</em> Gwen said. “Lady Truyan is young and unmarried, from a powerful family. Arthur’s just lucky her father refused to let them ride without an escort, else he’d be stuck alone with her.”</p><p>              “‘Alone’,” Merlin repeated. “Don’t I count?”</p><p>              “Not in the eyes of Lord Truyan,” Gwen said with a shrug, then her mouth tightened. “Lady Morgana’s the most viable option, because she’s the least likely to ruin his daughter.”</p><p>              “Ruin?” Merlin scoffed. “What do you mean by—oh.”</p><p>              “Yes,” Gwen said. “Oh.”</p><p>              “Nobles are <em>weird,”</em> Merlin said. “At home, people don’t care if you’ve had sex outside of marriage unless there’s a baby involved.”</p><p>              “Nobles do seem to care a lot more,” Gwen said. “But it’s to do with heirs, and they’re worried that premarital sex can lead to bastards.”</p><p>Merlin’s brow creased. “Oh.”</p><p>              “Anyway,” Gwen said, shifting back to her original point, “doesn’t Mordred want you to watch him while he’s training?”</p><p>              “Yes,” Merlin said, “he does.”</p><p>Gwen frowned. “Okay.”</p><p>There was silence for a minute as she waited for an explanation, but Merlin didn’t offer one.</p><p>At last, she asked, “May I ask why you’re <em>not </em>watching him while he’s training?”</p><p>              “If I don’t get started on cleaning Arthur’s room now, he’s going to be even more mad,” Merlin said, grimacing. “And he’s already pretty mad. Turns out, he <em>wasn’t </em>happy about me not showing up for work this morning.”</p><p>              “Oh, that’s a shame,” Gwen said. “I was planning to go and watch Mordred’s training anyway.”</p><p>Merlin’s face lit up in a smile, and Gwen couldn’t help but grin back. “He’ll like that. Besides, you know some stuff about sword-fighting.”</p><p>Snorting, Gwen shook her head. “Not compared to the knights.”</p><p>              “I don’t know much about it,” Merlin said, “but they’re all experts, right? Well, experts aren’t always the best teachers.”</p><p>Something familiar crossed his face, a grimace and a wince, and Gwen couldn’t help the confusion that curled through her. Merlin sounded like he’d experienced that himself, but—he wasn’t an expert at anything, was he?</p><p>              “I’ll head over now,” Gwen said. “And—Merlin?”</p><p>Merlin, who had started in the other direction, further into the castle, paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”</p><p>              “Make sure you get that bruise seen to. It looks nasty.”</p><p>              “Ugh,” Merlin groaned. “Gaius is going to <em>lecture</em> me.”</p><p>              “He’d lecture you anyway,” Gwen pointed out. “It’s an obvious bruise, does it matter if he sees it now or later?”</p><p>              “True,” Merlin said. “Better to get it over with.”</p><p>He gave her a smile, before turning and moving away. Gwen continued forward, but swerved to cross to the training grounds and scanned them for Mordred.</p><p>It didn’t take long, because he was about half the size of everyone else there, and Gwen stopped by the weapons rack.</p><p>Mordred was doing well for his first lesson, following each of Arthur’s moves with a determined expression on his face, but it was clear that he was getting tired.</p><p>              “Your elbow’s drooping,” Arthur reprimanded suddenly, pausing his movements to step closer and nudge Mordred’s elbow up. “Keep your form tight.”</p><p>Gwen watched as Mordred did as instructed, then return to the simple sequence of positions Arthur was teaching him.</p><p>It was obvious the second he noticed her, because his entire face lit up and he stopped immediately, his wooden staff dropping to his side.</p><p>              “Gwen!”</p><p>Arthur whirled around, and his surprise made itself clear as he stared at her.</p><p>              “Hi Mordred,” Gwen called back with a smile. “You’re doing really well.”</p><p>              “Guinevere,” Arthur said, crossing the distance between them with a few strides, “I wanted to apologise for my thoughtless words the other day. I did not consider how they might be construed by someone who wasn’t granted the same birth right as me. They were intended as a joke, I assure you.”</p><p>Gwen bit her lip. She hadn’t really intended for this conversation to happen; she’d just wanted to watch Mordred learn to swing a sword.</p><p>But Arthur was clearly waiting for a response, arms open in a display of careful vulnerability, so Gwen sucked it up.</p><p>              “That,” she said at last, careful and slow, “is kind of you, milord.”</p><p>              “Really?” Arthur crossed his arms now, raising an eyebrow as he huffed a laugh. “That’s your response?”</p><p>Gwen straightened, lifting her chin up to meet her prince’s gaze evenly. “What else could I say, my lord?”</p><p>              “You could say what you actually think,” Arthur said, “instead of what you feel you have to.”</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Gwen glanced to Mordred, who was watching them with narrowed eyes. “I think,” she said, “that your apology sounded remarkably like Morgana.”</p><p>Arthur laughed properly now, his chuckle deep, even as he looked to the floor. “There’s a little bit of Mordred in there, too.”</p><p>              “Really?” Gwen asked, and tilted her head to see past Arthur and raise an eyebrow at Mordred.</p><p>              “You know, for a boy who says very little around me most of the time, he’s remarkably verbal in defending you.”</p><p>Fondness swelled in Gwen, and she smiled at Mordred. He blinked, and then smiled back, wide and toothy. “He’s lovely.”</p><p>              “Tell that to my arm,” Arthur said.</p><p>              “Your arm?”</p><p>Arthur sighed, rolling his healing shoulder. “He hit me earlier, caught me off guard. It’s been aching.”</p><p>              “I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” Gwen said. “Mordred’s kind.”</p><p>              “I’ll take your word for it,” Arthur muttered, then turned away from Gwen. “You ready to continue?”</p><p>Mordred nodded enthusiastically, lifting his staff into a ready position.</p><p>              “Keep your elbows up,” Arthur said. “Are you going to fight me or run away screaming?”</p><p>He moved closer, taking Mordred’s arm and pushing them up until they were in a proper ready position, with the sword held in front of him.</p><p>              “If you can’t get the basics down, you’ll never learn anything more complicated,” Arthur said, just loud enough that Gwen could hear too. “Footwork, correct stance…they’re all essential.”</p><p><em>This is Mordred’s first time wielding a sword</em>, Gwen thought, her brow furrowing. <em>Arthur doesn’t have to be that sharp.</em></p><p>But…Gwen didn’t know as much about sword-fighting as Arthur did; she didn’t know as much about any fighting. He’d been trained from birth to wield a sword. She’d just tested her father’s, and practice against Leon and Elyan.</p><p>              “Now,” Arthur continued. “Parry.”</p><p>He swung his staff downwards, the motion slow and carefully controlled, and Mordred rushed to block it.</p><p>              “No,” Arthur said. “That was wrong. Here’s what you need to do…”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed this chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The druids are here.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, in this chapter I've written about druids celebrating the autumn equinox. I did do research for this festival, but if I have written anything blatantly wrong or offensive, please do tell me - it wasn't intentional, and I'd love to correct it.<br/></p><p>I hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              “I,” Mordred groaned, flopping down into one of Morgana’s chairs, “am exhausted.”</p><p>              “That’s because Arthur is a dick,” Morgana said, poised as ever as she flipped to the next page of her book without looking up.</p><p>Gwen couldn’t help her smile. “Milady, I haven’t known you to speak so plainly.”</p><p>              “I used up my entire vocabulary when I berated Arthur,” Morgana said. “I no longer have an extensive range of imaginative insults; it’ll take me a few days to rebuild my stock.”</p><p>Mordred giggled at that, his expression melting from tired into delighted. “Arthur complained about it for ages.”</p><p>              “A good insult or ten will do that to a person,” Morgana agreed with a nod. “Important lesson: know exactly who you’re insulting. I find it easy to mock Arthur, because I have known him more than half my life; we are close. If I am to mock someone else, I must have an understanding of who they are as a person.”</p><p>Mordred titled his head to one side, his nose scrunching up. “Why?”</p><p>              “Two reasons,” Morgana said.</p><p>She slipped a bookmark into her book before shutting it, and setting it to one side; Gwen had noticed before that she loved to teach Mordred this sort of thing.</p><p>              “The first is that if you attempt to mock someone, yet say the wrong thing or mix up a detail, then you are the one who is left looking foolish.”</p><p>              “Milady, is it really appropriate to teach Mordred how to mock people?” Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” Mordred said, “I don’t insult people that much.”</p><p>And he sounded so sweet, his face bright and innocent, that Gwen couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across her face in return. “I’m glad.”</p><p>              “The important second point,” Morgana continued, “is that when you insult someone you are familiar with, you are less likely to accidentally brush against a sore spot.”</p><p>              “Huh?” Mordred frowned. “What do you mean?”</p><p>              “When I insult Arthur, I rarely do it out of malice, so I have no intention of saying anything that will truly upset him. I’m entirely capable of making him realise his mistake without ruining our friendship.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Mordred said. “I didn’t realise you thought about that.”</p><p>Gwen smiled fondly at her mistress, even as Morgana scoffed.</p><p>              “Of course I think about that. I may be…ah, how did Arthur put it?”</p><p>              “Venomous,” Gwen supplied easily. She’d been there for <em>that</em> particular incident, about a year before.</p><p>              “Yes, that’s right,” Morgana murmured. “I may be <em>venomous</em>, but I’m not cruel.”</p><p>              “That’s good,” Mordred said, then: “What are you reading?”</p><p>              “A book recommended to me by Lady Truyan,” Morgana replied, holding it up to show Mordred the cover. “I went to her to express my regret that I could not ride today, and noticed it on her bedside table; she told me that it’s her favourite book.”</p><p>Gwen frowned, confused. “You hate Lady Truyan.”</p><p>              “Exactly,” Morgana said. “I cannot criticise her favourite book within an inch of its life if I have not read it.”</p><p>              “I thought you liked romance books,” Mordred said, his nose scrunching adorably. “Isn’t that a romance book?”</p><p>Morgana straightened, her shoulders squaring, even as her gaze instinctively flickered to her bookshelf. “I like <em>good </em>romance books,” she said stiffly. “Ones that aren’t entirely full of easily-solved misunderstandings and secret nobility and rumours and gossip and flushed cheeks like the first rose after a winter's snow and blah blah blah.”</p><p>              “What makes a romance book good?” Mordred asked. “I tried reading one, but it was really boring.”</p><p>Gwen stilled, shock clanging through her, and Morgana went very, very still, her face frozen in its affronted state.</p><p>It took a few breaths to calm herself enough to ask, “Why were you reading a romance book, Mordred?”</p><p>              “Because Morgana reads them,” Mordred answered, blinking owlishly. “I don’t get why, I had to stop after a few pages. It was awful and gross and they were all gooey.”</p><p>Gwen let out a sigh of relief. “You…didn’t get any further than that?”</p><p>              “No,” Mordred said, shaking his head. “I stopped when the girl fainted just cause she saw some of the guy’s chest.”</p><p>              “T-that’s good,” Gwen said. “Don’t do that again, alright?”</p><p>Morgana’s romance books all became very heated as they progressed, which was entirely inappropriate for an eleven-year-old.</p><p>              “I wasn’t planning to,” Mordred said, pulling a face.</p><p>Breaking out of her frozen state, Morgana plastered a too-wide smile to her face. “Good!” she said. Her voice was just a little too loud to be normal. “That’s great!”</p><p>Mordred glanced between the two of them, his brow creasing, but he didn’t say anything; instead, he hunched in on himself a little, his knees coming up so he could clutch them to his chest.</p><p>              “Anyway,” Gwen said, hurriedly changing the subject before she and her mistress could confuse Mordred any more, “you did enjoy training today, right?”</p><p>Mordred instantly perked up, his expression brightening as he nodded enthusiastically. “It was awesome! My staff was heavy, and it was tiring, but it was awesome!”</p><p>In front of her, Morgana relaxed as the conversation moved on.</p><p>              “You were doing well,” Gwen said.</p><p>              “You really think so?” Mordred asked, wide-eyed.</p><p>Gwen nodded, smiling. “I do. I’m not a great fighter myself, but I’ve seen a thing or two, and for your first day, you were doing great.”</p><p>              “‘Not a great fighter,’” Morgana scoffed. “Don’t sell yourself short, Gwen. You can hold your own against me, and <em>I</em> used to beat Arthur.”</p><p>              “That was a long time ago,” Gwen said, looking down at her feet as she huffed a laugh.</p><p>              “Was Ealdor a long time ago?” Morgana asked, one eyebrow arching upwards.</p><p>              “…No,” Gwen had to admit.</p><p>A satisfied smile curved at Morgana’s mouth, and she said, “Exactly.”</p><p>              “Embers told me about Ealdor,” Mordred interjected. “He said that you fought off bandits?”</p><p>Gwen and Morgana both nodded, but something sad chimed through Gwen as she remembered what Merlin had lost.</p><p>              “We did,” Morgana said. “A band of men, led by brigand named Kanen, was terrorising Merlin’s village; we fought him off, with the assistance of the people of Ealdor, to ensure that their grain would not be taken.”</p><p>              “I think it was them who fought him off, with our assistance,” Gwen said with a laugh.</p><p>Morgana waved a dismissive hand. “Semantics.”</p><p>              “Merlin didn’t say that much,” Mordred said, tilting his head to one side.</p><p>Gwen winced. “He…doesn’t like to talk about it.”</p><p>              “Why not?”</p><p>              “Well…” Gwen considered how much she could say. “A very good friend of his…didn’t make it through the fight.”</p><p>Mordred paled, stilling. “He died?” His voice came out hoarse.</p><p>              “Yes,” Gwen said, quiet. “He did.”</p><p>              “<em>Oh</em>.” Mordred bit his lip. “I didn’t know that.”</p><p>              “It was a few months ago,” Gwen said. “And, like I said, he doesn’t like to talk about it.”</p><p>Mordred nodded his understanding, but pushed to his feet anyway, his earlier exhaustion vanishing. “I’m going to go cheer him up.”</p><p>              “Mordred—” Gwen started to say, but the boy was already dashing from the room. She sighed, moving to close the door behind him.</p><p>There was a short period of silence and then:</p><p>              “I forgot about all of that,” Morgana said quietly. “Merlin’s friend dying, and…everything.”</p><p>Annoyance flared for a second, but Gwen shoved it away. “He was grieving for…a while,” she said.</p><p><em>Until someone tried to kill Arthur, and he panicked</em>, she didn’t say. <em>I held him while he cried</em>.</p><p>Because that was between her and Merlin, and if he’d wanted Morgana to know then he would have said something.</p><p>              “Oh,” Morgana said. “I…didn’t realise.” She hesitated, then said, “I should’ve realised.”</p><p>Gwen softened, leaning in to rest a hand on her mistress’ shoulder. “It’s okay.”</p><p>              “He’s my friend too,” Morgana said. She looked down at her hands.</p><p>              “Merlin is…very good at hiding his feelings,” Gwen said. “And he’s only getting better at it. Don’t feel bad.”</p><p>Morgana’s responding smile was tight, but it <em>was</em> a smile.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen smiled, wide, up at Merlin, and Merlin returned it.</p><p>              “I hope you have a good time,” she said brightly. “I don’t know much about this kind of festival, but Mordred said it’s fun.”</p><p>Merlin laughed, even as his hands clenched tightly in the reins of his horse. “He’s said it’s more than ‘fun’.”</p><p>              “He <em>is </em>very excited,” Gwen said. “Are you going to be staying for the festival?”</p><p>Something tightened in Merlin at the reminder of what was going to happen, but he just shrugged. “Maybe. It depends on what time we get there – I don’t want to be travelling home in the dark.”</p><p>              “Well, I hope it goes well if you do,” Gwen said. There was a slight tension in her shoulders, in the way she was holding herself, and Merlin felt his heart sink a little. He’d hoped that Gwen would be over her fear of magic by now.</p><p>              “I’m sure it will.” Merlin didn’t let any of his annoyance into his voice, because—well.</p><p>Gwen was still doing a <em>hell </em>of a lot better than most of people he’d met in Camelot.</p><p>              “I can’t believe Mordred’s late,” Merlin murmured, as he looked around the courtyard.</p><p>Gwen huffed a laugh, grinning up at him. “I left just as Arthur came to Morgana’s room to say goodbye to Mordred.”</p><p>              “Say goodbye?” Merlin repeated, a little incredulous. “I <em>can’t </em>believe that Arthur’s saying goodbye.”</p><p>              “Well” –Gwen’s smile turned mischievous- “I say ‘saying goodbye’, Arthur says ‘making sure he doesn’t forget all his sword-training whilst he’s away’.”</p><p>Merlin threw his head back and laughed, and Gwen joined in, bright and loud.</p><p>A familiar feeling brushed against Merlin’s magic, and he turned to see Mordred stopped at the bottom of the steps, his head tilted curiously, with Morgana at his side.</p><p>              “What’s going on?” Mordred asked.</p><p>              “Just a joke,” Gwen said. “Don’t worry, it isn’t anything important.”</p><p>Mordred nodded, then threw himself into Gwen; she almost toppled backwards, but Merlin caught her with an instinctive flicker of magic, and their arms wrapped around each other.</p><p>Gwen leaned in, whispering something in Mordred’s ear that had a grin flashing across his face, there and gone in a second.</p><p>              “I will,” he said once he’d pulled back.</p><p>              “And have a good time,” Gwen added, resting her hands on Mordred’s shoulders as she smiled down at him. “We’ll see you in a few weeks.”</p><p>Mordred nodded enthusiastically, then Gwen helped him up onto Merlin’s horse so he was tucked into the saddle in front of him.</p><p>              “I expect you back by the end of the week, Merlin,” Morgana said, perfectly elegant as she swept across the courtyard to grab the horse’s reins before they could leave. “Else I shall be <em>convincing </em>Arthur to organise a search party.”</p><p>Merlin snorted. “Like the prat would <em>ever</em> agree to that. That’s a terrible threat.”</p><p>              “You want to test me?” Morgana asked, arching an eyebrow.</p><p>Behind her, Gwen’s eyes had widened and she was shaking her in a clear ‘no’.</p><p>Merlin considered it for a moment, then admitted, “Probably not.”</p><p>Morgana’s lips curved in a satisfied smile, and she released the reins to take a step backwards. “Good. Now, be careful.”</p><p>              “When am I <em>not</em>?”</p><p>Gwen snorted, covering her mouth with her hand; Mordred scoffed; Morgana just arched her eyebrow again. Merlin figured that she’d learned the move from Gaius, because there was almost as much judgement packed into it.</p><p>Before Merlin could ride off, and leave the conversation there, Morgana grabbed one of his hands and held it up, showing off the mild scarring from the acid burns.</p><p>              “This,” she said, dry as dust, “is a fantastic example, within easy reach, that requires no other evidence to back it up. I do, however, have many other examples that I could provide. Would you like me to list them?”</p><p>Merlin winced. “No. I’m good, thanks.”</p><p>              “Good,” Morgana said again, and let go of Merlin’s hand.</p><p>He took the opportunity to brush his heels against the horse’s side, making it start off at a slow pace across the courtyard, and away from Camelot.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen found herself staring out of Morgana’s window again, gazing down at the courtyard. She hated herself for it, but every time a horse came galloping in, she tensed for just a fraction of a second, worry flaring.</p><p>Because…as much as she’d tried to be better, as much as she felt that she’d improved, it took time to brush off more than two decades of stories about feral druid parties.</p><p>The stories spoke of druids forcing mortals to join in their celebrations, of music that bewitched the listener, of dancing until your feet were bleeding and laughing all the while. There were even some that mentioned wild orgies.</p><p>From what Mordred had said, the druids were kind and gentle and peaceful, but—it was hard to shake the terrifying stories she’d heard when she was young.</p><p>And Merlin was just a mortal, like her. Not a druid. Yet he might end up taking part.</p><p>              “Guinevere?”</p><p>The voice asking was most definitely not Morgana’s, and Gwen spun around immediately, her hand reaching for the pins on Morgana’s dresser, only—</p><p>It was Arthur.</p><p>She let out a deep breath of relief, letting her hand drop back to her side, and then curtsied. “My lord.”</p><p>              “I’m looking for Morgana,” he said. “Do you know where she is?”</p><p>              “I’m not sure,” Gwen said. “She might have said something about the library?”</p><p>Gwen, of course, knew that Morgana had made a beeline for the library as soon as Merlin and Mordred had left, because she wanted to learn more about the druids without having to ask Mordred a hundred questions, but she didn’t think Arthur would be too fond of that. Lying would give Morgana a little time, and Arthur wouldn't want to enter the depths of the library unless he was sure that Morgana was there.</p><p>              “That doesn’t sound like her,” Arthur said, his face falling into a frown. “I’d have thought she was going on a ride.”</p><p>Gwen just shrugged. She didn’t like lying to her prince, even if it wasn't a big one, but Morgana was her mistress, and her friend, and she had to come first no matter how Gwen felt about Arthur.</p><p>              “Oh, well,” Arthur said. “I’d just come up with the <em>perfect</em> retort for something she said earlier.”</p><p>A small smile tugging at her mouth, Gwen said, “<em>Really</em>, sire?”</p><p>              “I couldn’t just leave her arguments undisputed,” Arthur said. “Then she’d lord it over me for months.”</p><p>              “If you say so,” Gwen murmured, chuckling to herself.</p><p>Arthur frowned at her. “I’m being serious.”</p><p>              “I’m sure you are, sire.”</p><p>When Arthur’s eyes narrowed before he turned with a huff and stalked off, Gwen let herself laugh properly, the sound ringing in the otherwise-empty chamber.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin jumped down from the horse after Mordred, and took a hold of the reins.</p><p>              “How far is it to the camp from her?”</p><p>Mordred gestured towards a nearby clump of rocks. “Only a few minutes.”</p><p>              “And you’re <em>sure </em>people aren’t going to be expecting things of me?”</p><p>The loud sigh Mordred let out made it sound like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “<em>Obviously</em> they’re going to be expecting things of you. But I made Iseldir promise to make them promise to treat you normally.” He paused, and then added, “As long as you tell Kara that you <em>are </em>actually Emrys, and we are actually friends.”</p><p>              “Of course we’re actually friends,” Merlin said, furrowing his brow, then: “I’m still not entirely clear on the whole ‘Emrys’ thing, though.”</p><p>There was a strange itching, under his skin, and Merlin wasn’t sure where it was coming from; he tried to ignore it.</p><p>              “You’re actually Emrys,” Mordred said. “You’re the most powerful warlock to ever walk this land, and the protector of the Once and Future King.”</p><p>He hesitated slightly, opening his mouth like he was going to say more then decidedly shutting it.</p><p>Merlin frowned, but before he could say anything, there was an odd press of magic; he turned to see the druid from before, Iseldir, approaching alone.</p><p>              “Emrys,” the druid leader greeted, inclining his head, “it is good to see you again.”</p><p>              “Uh…you too,” Merlin said.</p><p>              “Perhaps Mordred may join the rest of the camp while I talk to you?”</p><p>Mordred’s brow creased, and he tilted his head at Iseldir for a moment, the two of them making eye contact, before he grinned and dashed off towards the clump of rocks he’d pointed out.</p><p>              “We are honoured that you would join our Mabon celebrations,” Iseldir continued once Mordred was gone, “and we respect that you are a newcomer, inexperienced in the ways of druidic festivals.”</p><p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said. “I think…Mordred said there was a feast? And a ceremony.”</p><p>              “Yes,” Iseldir said, inclining his head again. “Mordred is right, of course, but there is slightly more to it than that.” He gestured behind him, to the same clump of rocks Mordred had just run to. “May I explain as we walk?”</p><p>It took a moment for Merlin to realise that Iseldir was asking for his permission – which was an odd concept – and then he hurried to say, “Yeah, of course.”</p><p>Iseldir gave him a slight smile, and then started in that direction. He moved slowly, with an odd surety and grace. Merlin felt remarkably awkward in comparison.</p><p>              “Mabon – or the autumn equinox, as you may better know it – is a time for thankfulness and balance, between the light of summer as it moves to its end and the approaching darkness of winter.”</p><p>Merlin nodded as calmly as he could when Iseldir paused and gave him a questioning look.</p><p>              “We feast, for the end of the harvest, and offer up our magic as we give thanks for what we have been blessed with. Most of us will share that thing with the rest of the druids, but some will keep it to themselves if they wish to. Tonight is a night of strong magic, and we take simple joy in that.”</p><p>              “It sounds…nice,” Merlin said after a moment, when it was clear that Iseldir had finished.</p><p>Iseldir gave him another slight smile. “It is. Unlike many of our other celebrations, which involve night-long dancing and powerful ceremonies and rituals, Mabon is – for our group of druids, at least – a night of peace.”</p><p>Merlin nodded, and then the two of them came to a stop beside the clump of rocks.</p><p>It marked a steep decline into the colourful druid camp, setting it down and out of any passer-by’s line of sight.</p><p>A strange feeling hung in the air, of people letting their magic roam so freely. Every sorcerer Merlin had met up until then had kept it coiled up, hidden and safe, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.</p><p>              “You seem tense,” Iseldir noted, but left himself open for response rather than asking a question.</p><p>              “It’s…your magic,” Merlin said after a moment. “I haven’t…”</p><p>And—there was that itch again, an odd itch that Merlin just couldn’t scratch.</p><p>              “You haven’t released your magic?”</p><p>Merlin shrugged. “Am I supposed to?”</p><p>Shock flared in Iseldir’s eyes, but Merlin was glad that it only lasted a second before the older man just took it in stride, quickly explaining, “On days like this, when magic is strong, it is also more active. It can be difficult to keep restrained, so we do not bother.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said. It was so rare that he let his magic out that the idea of spending the last few hours of the day, and then the night, like that was a strange one.</p><p>              “You do not have to if you do not want to, of course,” Iseldir added, “but the urge will grow stronger as the day progresses. Once the sun starts to set, and we begin our ceremony, it is almost painful to resist.”</p><p>His eyebrows shooting up, Merlin said, “I’ve never felt <em>that</em>.”</p><p>              “You’ve also never participated in our celebrations,” Iseldir pointed out. “They…open a path inside you, setting you more in tune with your magic.”</p><p>              “Oh,” Merlin said again, then glanced around to check that no one was watching (why would people be watching? He was being stupid) before closing his eyes. He took a deep breath in, before letting go of the tight hold he kept on his magic.</p><p>It wasn’t a relief, per se, because it wasn’t painful or uncomfortable to keep his magic in check, but it felt—freeing. Like taking his clothes off and bathing in a river after a long day of riding.</p><p>Iseldir’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open a little, as Merlin’s magic lazily curled through the clearing, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel he’d made a mistake.</p><p>              “Have I done something wrong?” he asked, worried.</p><p>Letting out a shuddering breath, Iseldir shook his head. “Not—not at all. Your magic is—a very beautiful thing.”</p><p>At the very edges, Merlin could feel where his magic was beginning to tangle with Iseldir’s, and that of the druids in the camp, but he resisted the urge to reel it back in. Iseldir had told him that it was okay; if it wasn’t, then he would say so.</p><p>              “Alright,” Iseldir said at last. “Shall we see the others?”</p><p>Merlin gave him a smile that did nothing to calm the roiling in his stomach. This was the first time he was meeting a camp of druids.</p><p>But Iseldir led him down the hill and into the camp calmly and with little fanfare.</p><p>The tents, which Merlin had thought were colourful from a distance, he could now see were made of simple, rough fabric that was patterned with colourful cloths. Wooden decorations chimed gently in the breeze. Furs and blankets were visible through open tent flaps, although Merlin did his best not to stare in peoples’ living spaces. The smell of incense curled through the air, faint but sweet.</p><p>They soon reached the centre of the camp, around which the tents were arranged in a circle.</p><p>Silence fell for just a moment, fifty necks craning to look at him and Iseldir, before everyone returned to their chatter, and Mordred bounced over with a girl of a similar-looking age in tow.</p><p>              “Emrys!” he exclaimed, and seemed delighted to be able to. “You let your magic out!”</p><p>              “…I did.”</p><p>Mordred grabbed his hand, his face splitting open in a grin as he gazed up at Merlin with adoration. “It’s so pretty!”</p><p>              “It is?” Merlin’s brow furrowed with confusion.</p><p>              “Yeah,” Mordred said, “it is.”</p><p>He was practically jumping up and down with excitement, and a moment later his magic unfurled from him, rippling out and rubbing fondly against Merlin’s.</p><p>It was the first time Merlin had felt it outside of nightmares – and they weren’t exactly the time to be focusing on the feel of Mordred’s magic. But it was warm and comfortable, and there was a familiarity to it.</p><p>              “You—” the girl next to Mordred choked out, her cheeks bulging as she stared up at Merlin, before she whipped around to whisper furiously in Mordred’s ear.</p><p>Mordred’s face lit up in a grin. “I did tell you that it was him!”</p><p>              “But you were lying!” the girl said loudly, a little desperate-sounding, as her cheeks slowly grew redder and redder.</p><p><em>Kara</em>, Merlin realised. <em>This is Mordred’s friend Kara</em>.</p><p>              “Well, I wasn’t,” Mordred said, crossing his arms and looking incredibly smug. “So <em>there</em>.”</p><p>Kara’s gaze flicked to Merlin once more, and she stared at him for another moment before letting out an angry noise and dashing off, into the denser part of the crowd of druids.</p><p>His grin stretching wider, Mordred’s grip tightened on Merlin’s hand.</p><p>              “Don’t be mean,” Merlin said, but it was barely a reprimand; he’d found himself annoyed, on multiple occasions, by people not believing him, and would have <em>loved </em>to see their faces as he proved them wrong.</p><p>              “I’m not being mean,” Mordred immediately denied, looking up at him with hurt eyes. “That’s <em>Kara</em>.”</p><p>Merlin raised an eyebrow and did his best to be a responsible not-yet-adult. “So?”</p><p>              “She’s meaner than me,” Mordred said. “So nothing I do to her is mean.”</p><p>              “But even if someone is mean-<em>er</em>, that means you’re mean too,” Merlin pointed out. “She can’t be <em>more </em>mean if you’re not also mean.”</p><p>Mordred’s face scrunched up. “What do you mean?”</p><p>              “Just ‘cause she’s mean, doesn’t discount you being mean,” Merlin said. “So…don’t be mean.”</p><p>              “…okay,” Mordred grumbled. “Do I have to go and say sorry now?”</p><p>              “Probably,” Merlin said.</p><p>That was the right thing to do, right? His only childhood friend was Will.</p><p>But—then Mordred was <em>gone</em>, because of course he was because Merlin said he probably should, but that meant Merlin was left standing awkwardly at the edge of the group of druids.</p><p>He glanced around, trying to see where Mordred had disappeared to, but couldn’t spot him anywhere. Just other druids, in their cheerfully colourful robes, talking and preparing food.</p><p>              ‘<em>Emrys,</em>’ a voice suddenly said, ringing in his head, and Merlin twisted, reaching out with his magic to find the source.</p><p>It took him a moment, but he traced it back to a woman, sat at one of the tables. She was looking straight at him, gaze weighty.</p><p>              ‘<em>Would you like to join me?</em>’</p><p>Relief surged through Merlin like a wave, and he quickly nodded. ‘<em>Yes, please.</em>’</p><p>She gestured to the bench opposite her, and Merlin hurried to take it.</p><p>              “It’s an honour to meet you,” she said, and held her hand out.</p><p>As Merlin shook it, he noticed the branches of a tree tattooed across her skin, flowers blooming in places, and disappearing into her sleeve.</p><p>              “I am Aisling.”</p><p>Merlin nodded. “I’m Merlin. Though—everyone here calls me Emrys.”</p><p>A slight, amused smile curled as Aisling’s mouth. “I may have noticed. Like I said, it is an honour to meet you, Emrys. Or would you prefer I call you Merlin?”</p><p>              “Emrys…works.”</p><p>              “Emrys it is, then,” Aisling said.</p><p>Her smile widened, her weathered golden skin crinkling with it. She looked older than Merlin’s mother, with thick silver hair spilling over her shoulders and down her chest.</p><p>              “Er…thank you. For inviting me over,” Merlin said after a moment of silence. “I’m…”</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” Aisling said, gentle now. “You’re hardly the first non-druid to visit our celebrations.”</p><p>              “I’m not?” Merlin sighed with relief, slumping down in his seat. He rested his hands on the table, which was curved wood, silvery-brown with age.</p><p>              “No,” Aisling said. “I myself was a normal sorceress, albeit with the power to speak in others’ minds, for more than a decade before the druids found me.”</p><p>Merlin’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t known that druids were anything other than born. “<em>Really</em>?”</p><p>Aisling looked a little amused at his surprise, but nodded calmly. “Yes. I was in a bad place, but the druids opened their hearts to me and gave me a home. That was…oh, that must have forty years ago now. Forty-one, perhaps?”</p><p>              “That’s…”</p><p><em>A long time</em>, Merlin was about to say, then thought better of it.</p><p>              “It was a while,” Aisling said, agreeing with his unspoken words. “Sometimes feels like just yesterday…” she added, just a murmur, her eyes growing distant.</p><p>Merlin didn’t respond to that, because it was clearly something private, just sat a little awkwardly until Aisling’s gaze snapped to him again.</p><p>              “You know about our Mabon celebrations, then?”</p><p>Nodding, Merlin answered, “A little bit. Mordred told me some, and then Iseldir told me some more.”</p><p>              “That’s good,” Aisling said. “As someone who was once a newcomer, I know it can be a little confusing otherwise. Do you have any other questions? I can do my best to answer them.”</p><p>Merlin glanced around the camp again, at the bustle of food preparations, then shrugged. “I’m…not sure?”</p><p>              “You’re not sure if you have any other questions?” Aisling said, dry, and Merlin flushed. “Don’t worry,” she added before he could apologise, “that’s understandable.”</p><p>              “It <em>is</em>?”</p><p>Amusement curved Aisling’s mouth again, and she nodded. “Well, I can understand it. That makes it understandable.”</p><p>              “Well—I was wondering about your tattoos,” Merlin said after a moment. “I haven’t seen any like that before?”</p><p>Aisling nodded understandingly, and held up her hand to show off the colourful flowers and intricately-patterned branch. “That’s a common question. Most ask it.”</p><p>              “The few tattoos I’ve seen were black or dark blue,” Merlin said, leaning in closer to get a better look at the bright reds and yellows and pinks of the petals. “How did you make it like this?”</p><p>              “Well…magic,” Aisling said, and Merlin flushed.</p><p>              “Yeah—I wasn’t thinking—sorry—”</p><p>              “No, no, it’s fine,” Aisling said. “It’s not a stupid question; I once learned techniques that most druids, even, have forgotten.” She paused, and then said, more muted, “The purge…wiped out a lot of our traditions.”</p><p>Cold clanged through Merlin, and all the warmth of the magic dancing around the forest couldn’t stop his shiver. “I’m…so sorry.”</p><p>              “It’s not your fault,” Aisling said, quiet. “And that’s not important, anyway. Us druids are a peaceful people; we don’t lust for revenge. Remembrance is my goal. That’s what this tattoo is.”</p><p>              “Oh?” Merlin wasn’t sure what she meant by the last part, but it was refreshing to meet a magic-user who wasn’t going to try and kill Arthur or Uther.</p><p>              “Many of our people died in the purge,” Aisling explained, “and it is so easy to forget them, or simply remember our loss. Each flower on my skin represents a druid who was killed, who’s story has been told to me.</p><p>              “In the culture I was born into, you tattooed your loss on your skin; in my culture now, the druid culture, different flowers mean different things. I married the two, and each flower on my skin means something.”</p><p>It took Merlin a moment to find the right words, and then he said, “That’s…<em>beautiful</em>.”</p><p>              “Thank you,” Aisling said, inclining her head. “You have lost someone?”</p><p>An image of Will, a memory of the two of them as children running through the fields with their heads tipped back in laughter, came to the front of Merlin’s mind. “Yes,” he said more quietly. “I have.”</p><p>              “Who?” Aisling reached a hand across the table, and Merlin took it. She searched his face, his eyes, her gaze soft. “It was recent, no?”</p><p>Merlin nodded, staring down at a knot in the table. “Three months ago. My…my childhood friend. He died protecting me.”</p><p>              “I am sorry for your loss,” Aisling said.</p><p>              “I…thank you.”</p><p>Aisling gave him a slight smile. “What was his name?”</p><p>              “Will,” Merlin whispered. “His name was Will.”</p><p>              “Today is a good day for grief,” Aisling said, “but it is also a good day for looking back with fondness. Mabon is about balance, and although it is not the day of the dead, I like to use it to reflect on those I have lost.”</p><p>              “Huh,” Merlin said. “That sounds…nice.”</p><p>              “It is,” Aisling said, inclining her head. “Would you like to see me tattoo myself later?”</p><p>              “I would,” Merlin said sincerely. “It sounds fascinating.”</p><p>              “Tattooing?” a voice asked loudly, and Merlin turned in time to see Mordred approaching, jumping onto the bench next to Aisling. “You’re going to do Cerdan’s tattoo?”</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>Aisling’s entire body softened, and her smile melted away. “Yes,” she said, quiet. “I am.”</p><p>              “Good,” Mordred said. His expression wasn’t bright, exactly, but there was a happiness to it. “He’d like that.”</p><p>              “Yes, I think he would,” Aisling agreed. “Have you any suggestions for what flower should be his?”</p><p>              “An azalea,” Mordred said. “That’s, like, temperance. Right?”</p><p>He glanced at Merlin, as if he knew the answer, but Merlin had no idea.</p><p>              “Yes, it is,” Aisling said. “I was thinking a bell flower.”</p><p>Mordred’s face scrunched up. “What does that one mean again?”</p><p>              “Constancy,” Aisling said. “Reliability. Affection. Cerdan was one of the steadiest people I knew, a solid presence even in the hardest of times.”</p><p>              “That sounds better,” Mordred said. “I…like that.”</p><p>              “Good,” Aisling said, smiling. “I’m glad. I wasn’t very close with Cerdan, but I’m delighted to remember him. I’ll do the tattooing after the feast.”</p><p>              “Why have you waited so long?” Merlin asked, then flushed when the two druids turned to him. “I mean…no offense. Was that offensive?”</p><p>Aisling chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Not at all. I prefer to tattoo on days of power, because it sets the magic better. Makes the tattoo clearer and brighter. I was away on Lughnasadh, at the start of August, so this is the first time I’m attending a festival since Cerdan died.”</p><p>Mordred nodded, biting his lip. “And once Cerdan’s flower’s tattooed on Aisling, no one will forget him. Ever.”</p><p>              “I don’t know about that, sweetheart,” Aisling said. “I’m not going to live forever. All I can promise is that <em>I </em>won’t forget him.”</p><p>              “That’s fine,” Mordred said, more cheerfully, before ducking out of the way just as a hand flew towards his head from behind. “Hah! Told you you wouldn’t get me!” he cried, ducking under the table just as Kara appeared. “I win!”</p><p>              “We never said I only had one chance,” Kara shouted back, lunging over the bench and following Mordred under the table.</p><p>Before she could get him, though, Mordred popped out and clambered up onto Merlin’s shoulders; when Kara’s head poked out, a determined expression on her face, she froze at the sight of Merlin.</p><p>              “<em>Emrys</em>,” she choked out, immediately retreating back under the table.</p><p>              “Ha!” Mordred shouted again. “I win!”</p><p>              ‘<em>You do </em>not<em>,</em>’ a voice said petulantly in Merlin’s head – presumably unintentionally.</p><p>Mordred snorted again. “Emrys can <em>also</em> hear you like that, you know?”</p><p>There was quiet squeak from under the table. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Kara hissed, hidden in shadows when Merlin glanced down.</p><p>              “If you’d <em>believed </em>me, I might've,” Mordred said, smug.</p><p>              “Don’t be cruel to Kara,” Aisling reprimanded with a sharp look, and Mordred huffed out a breath before sliding off Merlin’s back and down onto the bench next to him.</p><p>              “It’s okay,” he said quietly, and little grumpily, “Emrys is nice.”</p><p>              “I take offense to that,” Merlin muttered under his breath. “I’m <em>amazing</em>.”</p><p>Mordred grinned, a flash of teeth, but Kara let out an upset sound.</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” Merlin said. “I won’t…bite?” He glanced to Aisling for help, but the old woman seemed content to just watch. “Does she think I’m going to bite?”</p><p>Aisling chuckled but shook her head. “There are many prophecies about your magic and…other abilities, and all druid children hear them often, but it’s different to hear a story and actually <em>feel </em>your sheer power swirling around us.”</p><p>              “Oh.” Merlin looked down at his hands, away from the gazes of people who expected things of him. He had enough of that with the dragon. “That’s…great? I don’t think I’m that powerful.”</p><p>              “You are,” Mordred said with such a simple surety that Merlin couldn’t help but believe him.</p><p>And—well. Shit.</p><p>              “Iseldir made sure everyone knows that you’re still young and inexperienced, so don’t worry about people asking for things from you,” Aisling said. “Most people will be friendly and welcoming if you talk to them. Some” –she directed a pointed look under the table– “are still young and intimidated.”</p><p>              “<em>Intimidated</em>.” Merlin stared at Aisling in shock, then down into the shadows of ‘under the table’, where Kara gasped at his attention and shifted backwards, away from him. “That’s…”</p><p>              “Don’t worry,” Aisling said. “Kara and Mordred are only just old enough to run around unattended, and only just young enough to be obviously affected by the presence of Emrys. The younger kids are stuck with adults, because they’re far more likely to accidentally perform magic tonight and injure themselves, and the next up from them is fourteen; they’re going to be hanging out together tonight. Kara’s the only one you’re going to have acting like this.” She paused, and then added, “I hope.”</p><p>Another druid came over at that point, obviously trying to hide that they were staring at Merlin, and set a platter of food down on the table; it was mostly berries and nuts, but it smelt delicious.</p><p>              “Shit,” Merlin said, “should I be helping with the food or anything?”</p><p>              “You’re a <em>guest</em>,” Mordred told him, rolling his eyes. “Of <em>course</em> you shouldn’t be helping with the food.”</p><p>              “What Mordred means to say,” Aisling cut in, “is that you don’t need to help out; this is only you’re first time attending.”</p><p>              “Phew.” Merlin sagged. “I don’t want to be a burden or anything, and I am <em>able</em> to help.”</p><p>              “Everyone here has a magic,” Mordred said. “It’s easier here than in Camelot.”</p><p>Merlin hadn’t thought of that, but now that he looked around the camp again, he noticed the small, casual uses of magic; the woman who distributed food to plates with a muttered spell, the man who laid out cutlery with a flick of his hand.</p><p>It was amazing, to be in a place where magic was practiced so freely. The air was humming with it, winding past lazily.</p><p>When he returned his focus to the table, with Aisling and Mordred and Kara peeking out while he wasn’t looking, Aisling was giving him a curious look.</p><p>              “It’s strange,” she said when Merlin frowned at her, “to know that Emrys lives in Camelot, where he can’t use his magic.”</p><p>Merlin shrugged. “It’s where my destiny is. And my duty, too.”</p><p>              “I suppose,” Aisling murmured. “Most magic-users haven’t made that connection, though.”</p><p>              “What do you mean?” Merlin asked, frowning.</p><p>              “Something dark and inappropriate for a celebration,” Aisling said, her expression brightening. “Now, have you ever tried chicory?”</p><p> </p><p>The feast was fun, even though Merlin stuck with the few druids he’d met already – Mordred, Aisling, and even Kara when she finally slipped out from under the table. It turned out that most of the druids were taking Iseldir at his word, and giving Merlin space to celebrate without overwhelming him.</p><p>After the feast, the dirty plates and tables and benches were cleared away by magic – and that was a delight to see, druids directing things through the air. Why couldn’t Merlin do that in Camelot when clearing up feasts?</p><p>Oh, right. Because Uther was a prick.</p><p>Once the tidying up was done, the druids settled down into a large circle, and joined hands.</p><p>Then they let their magic join together.</p><p> </p><p>It was <em>glorious</em>.</p><p>Magic flooded through Merlin, rippling like a wave around the circle, and something tugged at the very edges, a question and a plea.</p><p>He let everything go, let his magic flood out of him, and so did every other druid, their magic mixing in a wash of a hundred colours, and Merlin couldn’t tell where his own ended and anyone else’s began.</p><p>A beautiful note was ringing, perhaps out loud, perhaps just in Merlin’s head; a beautiful note that was joined by another, and then another, and then another and another and another until a symphony was playing.</p><p>The ceremony could have lasted hours; it could have lasted seconds. Merlin was too caught up in it to notice, his elation making time fly by.</p><p>When the tide started to ebb, and Mordred patted his knee, Merlin startled and it took him a moment to turn and blink at the young druid.</p><p>              “It’s over,” Mordred whispered.</p><p>Merlin stared at him for a moment, waiting for the words to register, before he nodded slowly. “O…kay.”</p><p>It took another moment before he realised what Mordred was saying, and then he sucked his magic back into him with great effort. After spending time (how long?) letting it be so <em>free</em>, it was strange to keep it on a leash again.</p><p>He felt too big for his skin, like he was being slowly stretched out to fit his new understanding.</p><p>              “You’re <em>amazing</em>,” Mordred said. His eyes were almost glowing, an eerie blue, and his hair seemed blacker than usual, his skin oddly porcelain.</p><p>When Merlin looked around at the other druids, he saw that they were similarly changed; Aisling’s frizzy hair was shining in the pale moonlight – <em>when had the sun set?</em> – and her brown eyes were liquid honey; Kara’s hair seemed to be threaded with gold, the odd strands gleaming.</p><p>              “Your magic is…” Mordred swallowed, shaking his head. “It’s so amazing.”</p><p>              “How eloquent of you,” Aisling said teasingly, but she was blinking a lot and seemed a little out of it.</p><p>In fact, everyone seemed to be waking up from a deep slumber, but Merlin—</p><p>He’d never felt more alive.</p><p>              “He’s right, though,” Aisling added, looking to Merlin then. “Your magic is incredible; I’ve never felt anything so pure.” She bowed then, her hands clasping in front of her as she bent over at the waist. “Thank you for honouring us by participating in our ceremony.”</p><p>Merlin just blinked at her for a while, trying to resist the tug of magic drifting around them, the remnants of the ceremony, before nodding slowly. “I…you don’t need to do…that…”</p><p>              “Ah, you’re still a little out of it,” Aisling realised. “Come on, I’ll get you something hot to drink.”</p><p>She led him to just outside one of the tents, with runes painstakingly embroidered on the outside and the flap firmly closed, and sat him down on an upturned log before muttering a spell and handing over cup of boiling chamomile tea.</p><p>Drinking the tea did make Merlin feel more alert, his senses mostly returning to him a few minutes into the cup.</p><p>              “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly. “That was so weird.”</p><p>Aisling laughed quietly, and Mordred grinned at him across the small campfire Aisling had started.</p><p>              “Everyone feels the same way on their first proper Mabon,” she told him. “I’d imagine it’s different with you, and it was with me too, because I wasn’t born a druid, but druids go through this magical growth-spurt when they’re about seventeen, eighteen. Sometimes nineteen. That’s when they start to able to properly control their powers, and that’s when they first react like <em>you </em>just did when we do a unification ceremony.”</p><p>              “So Mordred didn’t feel the same thing?”</p><p>Aisling snorted and shook her head. “I doubt many people felt the same thing you did.”</p><p>              “What do you mean?” Merlin asked, frowning. He absently itched his arm, then his ankle.</p><p>              “The more magic you have to give, the more magic you feel from other people,” Aisling said, then shrugged. “You gave <em>so much</em>. So you would have felt <em>so much</em>.”</p><p>              “Oh.”</p><p>Mordred tugged at his arm, and Merlin looked down at him. “It was amazing,” he said sincerely. “This was my fourth Mabon, and I’ve never felt anything like it.”</p><p>              “Don’t pressure the boy,” Aisling told Mordred. “He’s going to feel weird for a while, like he’s grown about ten sizes.”</p><p>That was a perfect way to describe it, Merlin thought. He felt itchy all over, and his magic – once perfectly behaved – was swirling just under his skin, eager to get out. In fact...when Merlin looked down at his hands, there was a faint multi-coloured glow, like tentacles, shining through his skin.</p><p>              “That’s weird,” he said.</p><p>              “It’ll fade within a few hours,” Aisling said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be looking like normal again by tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Merlin nodded.</p><p>              “Now,” Aisling continued, turning to Mordred, “let’s see about that bell flower, huh?”</p><p>Mordred’s face lit up, and he straightened, his hands clutching at the side of his seat. “Yeah!”</p><p>Aisling muttered a spell, and her eyes glowed golden before the bottom of her tent flapped up, and an ornate chest floated out and set itself down in her lap.</p><p>The chest was carved from a rich red-brown wood, polished to shine, and there were symbols that Merlin vaguely recognised as druidic carved deep into the lid. When Aisling opened it, undoing the silver clasp with a flick of her fingers, five different trays came with the lid, held in place by a system of metal struts.</p><p>              “Woah,” Merlin breathed, gazing at the chest with awe.</p><p>              “It’s really cool,” Mordred agreed, grinning at Merlin, happy to be sharing some of the things he’d grown up with. “‘Cause Aisling wasn’t born a druid, she’s got some of these awesome things from her homeplace.”</p><p>              “Can I ask where that is?” Merlin didn’t want to be rude, but also…he’d never seen anything like the box before.</p><p>It was so full, little compartments practically overflowing with pressed flowers of every variety.</p><p>              “I’m afraid it doesn’t exist anymore,” Aisling said, her gaze dropping to the box. “Just in the memories of my people. I’m…one of the few left.”</p><p>              “I’m so sorry,” Merlin hurried to say. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories—”</p><p>              “Don’t worry about it,” Aisling told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve grown used to it. Now.” She scanned through the compartments for a second, then reached down into the bottom of the chest to pull out a thick book, bound in tattered leather. “I don’t have any pressed bell flowers, but it should be” –she flicked through the book, eyes catching on each page for no more than a second– “right…about…here!”</p><p>The book fell open on a double page spread, one of the two pages covered by an incredibly intricate drawing of a bell flower. Spindly black lines traced it, and the petals were coloured in lilac.</p><p>              “This is what you think fits?” Aisling asked.</p><p>              “You’re the expert,” Mordred replied, then hesitated before: “Where are you going to put it?”</p><p>Aisling tugged her faded blue shirt off with a single motion, leaving her in just her breast bindings on the cold, late September night. In Camelot, people would be shouting in horror already, but Merlin hadn’t been raised there, even if their sensibilities were starting to get to him.</p><p>No, he was an Ealdor boy, through and through, and in a small farming village no one cared if you’d seen someone else half-naked; they were only bodies.</p><p>The druids, as Mordred had told Merlin, had a similar lack of concern.</p><p>Aisling’s chest and arms were dotted with silvery scars that stood out against her golden skin, and the branch tattoo continued curling up her forearms and to her neck before it split; one half went across to her other arm, and the other half threaded down her chest.</p><p>Bright dots of colour – so many, Merlin realised with a sinking feeling, representing so many lives lost – lit up Aisling’s body, and it took her a moment to find a spot where there wasn’t already a flower blooming.</p><p>              “Here works,” she said at last, resting her finger on a bare patch of branch just below the junction of her arm and shoulder.</p><p>Mordred nodded. “That looks good.”</p><p>Then Aisling started to mutter to herself, and before their very eyes, a new piece of branch grew, jutting out to curl around her upper arm, and then a bell flower grew from a bud into a flower.</p><p>Mordred spoke as Aisling did, recounting stories of his guardian, and it took a while, but at the end, the tattoo was as vibrant as a real flower, and Merlin stared at it in awe.</p><p>              “Great,” Mordred said, grinning up at Aisling. There was a sadness colouring the moment, but it wasn’t a bad kind of sadness; rather, it was the joy of remembering all the best moments of the time shared with a loved one lost.</p><p>It brought a sad sort of ache in his chest, a wistfulness for everything he was slowly beginning to forget about Will, and then words were tumbling out of Merlin’s mouth before he could stop them.</p><p><em>I really need to stop making important decisions this way</em>.</p><p>              “Would you be alright giving me a tattoo?” Merlin asked, gaze still fixed on Cerdan’s bell flower, and the hundreds of other beautiful flowers decorating Aisling’s skin. A patchwork quilt of love and loss, others gifting their favourite memories to Aisling.</p><p>Mordred’s eyes widened, and Merlin regretted speaking immediately because—</p><p>He’d just asked a woman whose culture was mostly gone if she would be happy to share a bit of that, to tattoo his loss on his skin like her people had once done.</p><p>              “Fuck, sorry, that wasn’t appropriate—” he started to say, but Aisling cut him off with a softly-spoken:</p><p>              “I would love to.”</p><p>The words were a surprise, and Merlin’s brain – still lagging from the newfound wildness of his magic – didn’t process them right away.</p><p>              “You…would?”</p><p>Aisling huffed a laugh, and looked down at her box once again. “It would be my honour to share a little bit of myself with Emrys.”</p><p>              “Don’t feel you have to,” Merlin stammered out, “just because there’s some prophecy about me or something. If you don’t want to, just say so—”</p><p>              “I am perfectly capable of speaking my mind,” Aisling said, a slight reprimand in her voice. “If I didn’t want to give you a tattoo, I would refuse. But so few people have ever asked, and this is something that is entirely <em>mine</em>. A mix of my new and old homes. Tattooing you would be like…giving you a gift. Whether you wear it or not, it is still mine. Besides,” she added with a scoff, “you wouldn’t be the first person I’ve tattooed.”</p><p>Merlin nodded, sitting up straighter. “That’s…thank you.”</p><p>              “Only if you’re sure, of course,” Aisling said. “You’re…how old are you again? Iseldir said it was, um, sixteen?”</p><p>              “Seventeen,” Mordred supplied, leaning into Merlin’s side now. His eyes were drifting shut, and he gave a huge yawn.</p><p>              “Seventeen,” Aisling repeated. “Gods, you’re <em>so</em> <em>young</em>.”</p><p>There was something missing there, an unspoken ‘to be doing…’ but Merlin wasn’t sure what it was; he didn’t think he wanted to know.</p><p>              “What were you thinking you would like?” Aisling asked.</p><p>              “Well…I’m not sure,” Merlin had to admit. “I only know the bare minimum of flower meanings.”</p><p>Her expression softening, Aisling said, “Tell me something about your friend. Will, you said?”</p><p>              “Will,” Merlin confirmed. “He was…kind. Some of the time. And relaxed. We…grew up together, playing in and around my village. He was funny, most of all. We’d play pranks on people – the other children, the adults – and then run away, laughing.”</p><p>It was nice to talk about Will, because Merlin had been shoving these feelings down since the badly planned assassination attempt on Arthur; distraction could get people killed. But…here, in the druid camp, a place of peace, he could reminisce.</p><p>              “He sounds lovely,” Aisling said. “There’s a few flowers that sound like they would fit: a yellow rose signifies friendship, chrysanthemums signify optimism and joy, sunflowers signify joy too…”</p><p>Merlin frowned. “I think…not the rose one, because Will did more in his life than just be my friend; he was his own person. And…not the sunflowers, because ‘joy’ doesn’t really feel like him. The chrysanthemums?”</p><p>Aisling turned to another page in her book, eyes scanning it, before she grimaced. “No, I don’t think that one’s right either.”</p><p>              “Why not?” Mordred asked.</p><p>              “Well, they also mean long life,” Aisling said, “which doesn’t sound accurate.”</p><p>Merlin winced. “No, it doesn’t.”</p><p>There was quiet from Aisling for a while as she flicked through the book of flowers and their meanings again, but she would make the occasional discontented noise.</p><p>              “What about crocuses?” Mordred suddenly said, and Merlin glanced down to see that he was almost asleep, his eyes open only a fraction, slumped into Merlin’s side.</p><p>Aisling paused. “A crocus?”</p><p>              “Yeah.” Mordred nodded, his hair rubbing against Merlin’s sleeve. “They’re…that word that means laughter that I can’t remember.”</p><p>              “Mirthfulness,” Aisling said. “They’re mirthfulness, and” –she turned back a whole chunk of pages, then read the page in question– “cheerfulness. Gladness. Youth.” Her gaze cut upwards, to Merlin. “Does that sound right?”</p><p>Merlin didn’t have to consider it for more than a second before he was nodding. “It does. It really, really does.”</p><p>              “Would you like a crocus, then?”</p><p>              “Yes, please.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was...a long one, huh? Almost double my usual chapter lengths, I think, but I wasn't sure where to cut it without feeling weird. This isn't me setting a precedent, though - most chapters will remain in the 4000-5000 region.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Merlin returns to Camelot, and Cornelius Sigan makes an appearance.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And so season 2 begins...and Merlin's deeper understanding and connection to magic starts to alter his sense of things.<br/></p>
<p>I hope you enjoy the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin rubbed experimentally at the tattooed skin of his forearm.</p>
<p>Just below the elbow, there was now a band of crocuses, about an inch thick, with a slender black line on either side, barricading it in. They were pretty, with purple-white petals and orange red stamen peeking through.</p>
<p>His skin was still sensitive, a faint itch, but overall it was nothing like the stories he’d heard about non-magical tattoos.</p>
<p>On reflection, he probably shouldn’t have gotten a tattoo twenty minutes after he’d decided he wanted one; Aisling probably shouldn’t have <em>given</em> him a tattoo twenty minutes after he’d decided he wanted one.</p>
<p>But Merlin liked it. Perhaps it was an entirely psychological thing, or perhaps there was a magic in the stories – the memories – he’d shared while Aisling slowly worked on it, but getting the tattoo felt like it was soothing his grief, promising that Will would be with him. Always.</p>
<p>              “Emrys?” Mordred’s voice shouted, and Merlin turned just in time to collide with Mordred on his way out of camp.</p>
<p>              “Oof,” he gasped out, only just managing to keep his feet under him.</p>
<p>Mordred didn’t seem to care; he fixed Merlin with a nasty look. It had improved since the last time Merlin had seen it - much nastier, likely due to practice with Morgana.</p>
<p>              “You were going to leave without saying goodbye!”</p>
<p>Merlin gasped dramatically, clutching his hands to his chest. “I <em>was not</em>.”</p>
<p>His eyes narrowing, Mordred said, “Oh, <em>really</em>? Then why were you sneaking through camp at a ridiculous time, leaving the tent <em>without saying goodbye</em>?”</p>
<p>              “First of all,” Merlin said, starting once again towards where he’d left his horse, “this isn’t a ridiculous time, this is later than I normally get up <em>thank you very much</em>.”</p>
<p>              “But it’s the day after Mabon,” Mordred said, frowning. “Everyone sleeps in.”</p>
<p>              “Thank you <em>so</em> much for telling me that,” Merlin said.</p>
<p>Mordred shook his head, crossing his arms and stopping right where he was. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye.”</p>
<p>Sighing, Merlin stopped too, and crouched down to tell Mordred, “I wasn’t going to.”</p>
<p>              “Yes, you were,” Mordred said. “You left the tent <em>really quietly.</em> Why would you do that?”</p>
<p>              “Because I didn’t want to wake Kara up,” Merlin said.</p>
<p>              “Bullshit.”</p>
<p>Merlin crossed his arms right back at Mordred. “<em>Not </em>bullshit.” He paused, then added, “Also, don’t say bullshit. It’s…a bad word.”</p>
<p>              “You just said it.”</p>
<p>              “I didn’t mean to.”</p>
<p>              “But you <em>did</em>.”</p>
<p>              “I’m a grown up,” Merlin said. “I’m <em>allowed </em>to say bullshit.”</p>
<p>Mordred’s brow creased. “You’re not a grown up, you’re only seventeen.”</p>
<p>              “I thought that seventeen was ‘ancient’.”</p>
<p>              “Morgana and Gwen both say that you’re still young,” Mordred said, “and you’re not a grown up.”</p>
<p>              “I’m still telling you to not say bullshit, though,” Merlin said. “It’s a bad word.”</p>
<p>              “But I want to.”</p>
<p>Merlin rolled his eyes. “We all want to do things, doesn’t mean we can.”</p>
<p>              “You’re trying to change the subject,” Mordred said, his eyes widening with the realisation before narrowing into slits. “You <em>were </em>going to leave without saying goodbye.”</p>
<p>Merlin sighed. “I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to. But…I really need to get back to Camelot soon, 'cause Arthur’s expecting me back. And I don’t like being gone for too long, ‘cause the royal clotpole’s not clever enough to stay out of trouble and not get himself killed.”</p>
<p>A giggle at that, hastily suppressed by a hand slapping over his mouth and a glare at Merlin. “That’s not funny,” Mordred hissed. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye.”</p>
<p>              “If it’s not funny, then why are you laughing?” Merlin asked, in what he thought was an entirely reasonable question.</p>
<p>The kick that Mordred aimed at his shin begged to differ; Merlin didn’t manage to get out of the way in time, and let out a yowl, hopping backwards as he clutched at his shin.</p>
<p>              “Mordred!”</p>
<p>              “You deserved that,” Mordred told him, looking far too proud of himself. “For trying to leave without saying goodbye.”</p>
<p>              “Fine,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been injured, can we say goodbye now?”</p>
<p>A satisfied grin spread across Mordred’s face. “So you admit it?”</p>
<p>              “Admit what?” Merlin immediately demanded, straightening. “What have I admitted? I haven’t admitted anything.”</p>
<p>              “You said ‘fine’ when I accused you of trying to leave without saying goodbye,” Mordred said. “That means you <em>were</em>.”</p>
<p>              “Actually,” Merlin said, “it means that I’m being the bigger person. Acting mature, and all that.”</p>
<p>Mordred pulled a face; Merlin pulled one back.</p>
<p>There was quiet for a moment, and then Merlin continued through the camp, still running his fingers over his new tattoo.</p>
<p>              “You are going to say goodbye, though, right?” Vulnerability flashed across Mordred’s face, and Merlin immediately regretted his teasing.</p>
<p>              “Of course,” Merlin said. “I’m going to miss you.”</p>
<p>A small smile appeared on Mordred’s face. “Good. I’m going to miss you too.”</p>
<p>              “When did we say you’d be coming back to Camelot?”</p>
<p>              “Two and a half months,” Mordred said immediately, not needing even a second to think about his response. “Five weeks after Samhain.”</p>
<p>              “Lucky,” Merlin said. “You’ll probably miss most of the digging.”</p>
<p>Mordred blinked. “Digging?”</p>
<p>              “Uther’s trying to find ‘treasure’ under Camelot,” Merlin said, doing air quotes. He scoffed. “Going to keep us all up for ages, and I bet he’s not even going to find anything.”</p>
<p>              “Oh, yeah,” Mordred said. “They’re digging past the dungeons, right?”</p>
<p>              “Yeah,” Merlin said. “I’m honestly surprised Uther’s letting them go that close the dragon, but here we are.”</p>
<p>Mordred face fell. “Yeah…”</p>
<p>              “<em>Anyway</em>,” Merlin continued, brushing past talk of the dragon who was convinced that Mordred was evil, “I’ll see you then.”</p>
<p>              “Yeah,” Mordred said, then hesitated.</p>
<p>Merlin crouched down, holding his arms out, and a grin was visible on Mordred’s face for just a second before he was flinging himself into Merlin’s arm.</p>
<p>They clung to each other for a moment, and despite the fact that the equinox was over, Merlin’s magic curled around Mordred, the edges that had tangled the night before knotting tighter together before Merlin left.</p>
<p>              “Tell me how Gwen and Morgana react,” Mordred said, his voice muffled against Merlin’s jacket.</p>
<p>              “React to what?”</p>
<p>              “Your tattoo.”</p>
<p>Merlin winced. “I…wasn’t planning on showing it to them.”</p>
<p>His eyes widening, Mordred pulled back to grab at Merlin’s arm and brush his finger against the ring of crocuses again. “But…why not?”</p>
<p>              “Well, it’s pretty obviously done with magic,” Merlin said, “and it’s suspicious for a normal, non-magic, person to be fine with having magic permanently tattoo something on to them.”</p>
<p>Mordred’s face scrunched up. “It is?”</p>
<p>              “According to Gaius’ many rants.”</p>
<p>              “But…why?”</p>
<p>Merlin shrugged. He wasn’t exactly sure himself; the magic was so clearly benign, yet people in Camelot were terrified of even the most basic of spells. “No idea.”</p>
<p>              “Oh,” Mordred said, face falling. “I…”</p>
<p>              “I’ll see you in two months,” Merlin said gently, patting Mordred’s shoulder before pushing himself to standing. “Take care of yourself, okay?”</p>
<p>Mordred grinned. “<em>You’re </em>the one who’s always getting yourself into trouble.”</p>
<p>              “Am not!”</p>
<p>              “Are so!”</p>
<p>              “Am not,” Merlin repeated, then quickly added, “<em>Arthur’s </em>the one who gets into trouble, I just follow him.”</p>
<p>              “I know four people who would disagree with that the second I asked them,” Mordred said.</p>
<p>              “Oh, really?”</p>
<p>              “Uh-huh.” Mordred nodded, then started to list off names on his fingers. “Gwen, Morgana—”</p>
<p>              “I get it, I get it,” Merlin said. He didn’t need to hear the other half of the list; he already knew who was on it. “Fine. I will…try to stay out of trouble.”</p>
<p>A grin flashed across Mordred’s face. “Good.”</p>
<p>              “You’re a terrible child,” Merlin told him, making sure to keep his tone teasing.</p>
<p>              “You’re terrible, too, <em>and </em>you’re a child,” Mordred said, clearly squashing the worry that surfaced at Emrys telling him he was terrible.</p>
<p>              “Not as terrible as you.”</p>
<p>Mordred attempted to raise just one eyebrow, but raised both of them instead. It kind of took away from the intimidation, and Merlin made a note to tell Morgana that Mordred needed to work on that.</p>
<p>              “Out of the two of us,” he said, slow and with a satisfaction that made Merlin worry, “who will Gaius be calling a terrible child? The one who <em>got a tattoo</em>? Or the one who didn’t?”</p>
<p>              “<em>Fuck</em>,” Merlin swore.</p>
<p>Gaius was not going to be happy that he’d gotten something permanently inked onto his body, and something that could be linked to the druids no less.</p>
<p>              “He’s going to <em>kill me</em>.”</p>
<p>              “He won’t kill you,” Mordred immediately said, somehow simultaneously straightening and shrinking in on himself, biting his lip. “Will he tell you off badly?”</p>
<p><em>I’m the one who brought you here</em>, was left unsaid, but Merlin could practically hear it anyway with how connected their magic was right then, from the ceremony the night before.</p>
<p>              “I’m just joking,” Merlin assured him, pausing in his sorting out of the horse’s saddle for a moment. “Gaius might tell me off a little, but nothing too serious, and definitely nothing I can’t handle.”</p>
<p>Mordred’s shoulders loosened, and he nodded slowly. “If you’re sure.”</p>
<p>              “Of course I’m sure,” Merlin said. “If Gaius is properly angry with me, I’ll eat my hat.”</p>
<p>              “You’ll what?” Mordred repeated, startled enough to laugh.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mission successful.</em>
</p>
<p>              “Eat my hat,” Merlin said, grinning. “It’s a saying. Bit of a weird one, but heigh-ho.”</p>
<p>              “Can I use it?” Mordred asked, eyes widening. “It’s going to confuse Kara <em>so much</em>. Then, when she tells me I’m just making stuff up – she always tells me that – I can tell her that <em>Emrys himself </em>said it.”</p>
<p>              “…Sure.”</p>
<p>             “Awesome!”</p>
<p>              “Now, I need to get going,” Merlin said, and glanced around to check his surroundings out of habit before using a flicker of magic to get up onto the horse without any trouble.</p>
<p>              “See you soon,” Mordred said, waving.</p>
<p>              “See you soon!” Merlin called back, before riding off into the forest.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It took another two days for Merlin’s magic to settle back down after the Mabon ceremony, and even then, he didn’t return quite to normal. Iseldir had said it would make him feel more in tune with his magic, but that wasn’t quite the case; instead, Merlin felt more in tune with <em>himself</em>.</p>
<p>Which…was odd.</p>
<p>He thought Gwen had figured out something had changed, because she kept on giving him worried looks, biting her lip and twisting her hands in her skirt, but she didn’t say anything.</p>
<p>Arthur, on the other hand, just told him to stop moping over his cousin and get on with his job.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The end of September came quickly, and October passed without much happening. Merlin thought this was worrying.</p>
<p>He’d been in Camelot for a year, at that point, and had never had more than a week and a half, two weeks, without <em>something </em>going wrong. Normally an attempt on Arthur’s life.</p>
<p>For <em>nothing to happen</em> was, to say the least, odd.</p>
<p>Merlin mentioned it to Gaius, who said that he should just take a break when he’s granted one.</p>
<p>Merlin mentioned it to Gwen, who laughed and said that she didn’t remember things happening so much before Merlin showed up, so maybe they were just settling down again.</p>
<p>Merlin mentioned it to Morgana, who arched an eyebrow and asked if he <em>wanted </em>trouble to be going on. It didn’t take long to assure her that no, no, he didn’t. He was just <em>used </em>to it going on.</p>
<p>Of course, that meant that when the trouble did come, it came big and fast and entirely out of the blue.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin didn’t know why Uther had decided to dig through the dungeons and into the old, mostly abandoned, tunnels, but he had; the loud clanging had been just about the only thing happening for the past month.</p>
<p>As was Camelot’s way, the excavation metaphorically exploded in less than two days flat.</p>
<p>Cornelius Sigan’s tomb felt a little off to Merlin when he first went down to the tunnels for Arthur, on his mission to tell them to shut up.</p>
<p>The slumped body obviously didn’t help things, but looking around at the gold, Merlin shivered. There was just something <em>wrong</em> there, something brushing at the edge of his senses, something that was unsettling him, like he was a cat and his fur had been brushed the wrong way.</p>
<p>              “Hello?” he said, quietly; he didn’t want to disturb the odd silence of the tomb.</p>
<p>When Merlin reached out to the man, slumped against the stone, his magic <em>screamed </em>at him, and he aborted the moment at the last second; instead, he gently prodded the man with his foot.</p>
<p>The red eyes set in a stark white face that was riddled with black veins made him realise exactly what his magic had been trying to tell him.</p>
<p><em>Danger</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Gwen wasn’t quite sure how Arthur was so oblivious to Cedric’s suspicious behaviour.</p>
<p>But then, she wasn’t as close to the situation; in fact, if she wasn’t such close friends with Merlin, she probably wouldn’t be hearing about it. Nothing got a point across like an hour-long rant.</p>
<p>Arthur, however, had failed to notice that Cedric had somehow inserted himself into most parts of his life within a twelve-hour period.</p>
<p>A position in the royal household – especially one as high-ranking as <em>replacing the Crown Prince’s manservant</em> – should really take longer than a day to get.</p>
<p>Merlin hadn’t had to wait long, but at least he had Gaius to vouch for him; Cedric was an utter stranger, and none of Gwen’s friends around Camelot had ever even heard of him before.</p>
<p>A stranger, showing up to Camelot out-of-the-blue, and expertly manoeuvring himself to one of the highest ranks a commoner could achieve?</p>
<p>That was <em>suspicious</em>.</p>
<p>How could Arthur not see it?</p>
<p>And then, when Gwen was doing her mistress’ washing, she overheard two of the guards gossiping about how that odd-but-kind Merlin boy had been sent to the dungeons <em>again</em>. Because he’d attacked one of the other servants – you know, that one with the weird eyes.</p>
<p>That stupid, stupid man.</p>
<p>Gwen wasn’t exactly sure who she meant – Arthur, or Merlin. It didn’t matter much anyway; she could only berate one of them for being stupid, because the other was the Crown Prince of Camelot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>              “Why on <em>earth </em>would you attack him?” Gwen demanded as she strode up to Merlin’s cell. The guards had already let her through, because they were getting used to Merlin being locked up by now and knew it wasn’t for anything serious.</p>
<p>Merlin scrambled to his feet. His hands weren’t even bound. “Gwen!” he cried, but instead of welcome and delight there was desperation. “Please, you have to convince him, Cedric’s going to destroy the kingdom!”</p>
<p>Gwen took a deep breath in, and then out. “Why,” she asked, shedding all of her previous anger as she did her best to remain calm, “do you think he’s going to do that?”</p>
<p>              “He broke into the tomb last night and—it’s not a normal tomb, it’s Sigan’s tomb—and Cedric must’ve, I don’t know, touched the gem or something because now he’s possessed by Sigan.”</p>
<p>Her very blood stilling in her veins, Gwen whispered, “Cornelius Sigan?”</p>
<p>Merlin nodded immediately, and Gwen—Gwen did not think that he looked nearly scared enough considering what he just told her.</p>
<p>              “Yeah, Cornelius Sigan, that’s his name,” Merlin said, the words tumbling out one after the other. “He’s really dangerous, died ages ago, but now he’s back to life and it’s <em>bad</em>.”</p>
<p>              “Yes,” Gwen murmured, barely able to move an inch as every horror story she had ever been told came rushing back all at once. “That is bad, isn’t it…”</p>
<p>              “Good, you understand,” Merlin said, sagging against the bars of his cell. “Please, you need to tell Arthur, you need to make him understand.”</p>
<p>              “I…”</p>
<p>The words caught in Gwen’s throat, and she coughed, trying to clear it, before taking in a deep breath and forcing herself to attention with a snap. When she opened her eyes again, she could feel her expression shift into something determined.</p>
<p>              “I can’t make Arthur understand anything,” she said, the words quick and precise. “Because I’m assuming you don’t have evidence.”</p>
<p>Merlin’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he admitted.</p>
<p>              “Then we need another plan,” Gwen said. “How do <em>you </em>know Cedric’s been possessed? Is it something we can use to convince other people?”</p>
<p>Wincing, Merlin said, “Well…Gaius already tried to convince the King. He wasn’t having any of it.”</p>
<p>              “Ah,” Gwen said. “That’s not good.”</p>
<p>              “No, it’s not.”</p>
<p>In the flickering light of the torches, Gwen had to squint to make out the flicker of…something on Merlin’s face; it was too dark to see properly.</p>
<p>She opened her mouth, but before she could propose another idea, Merlin gasped, breath shooting out of him as his eyes widened with horror.</p>
<p>A moment later, the whole castle <em>shook</em>, dust crumbling from stone.</p>
<p>              “What was that?” one of the guards shouted to the other.</p>
<p>              “I don’t fucking know, now do I?”</p>
<p>              “New orders!” a third shouted, dashing down the narrow stairs, their chainmail clinking. “Everyone’s needed in the courtyard.”</p>
<p>              “But the prisoner…”</p>
<p>The third looked at Gwen, and Merlin, and snorted. “Oh, please. Everyone knows <em>he </em>hasn’t committed a proper crime. We need all the men we can get. <em>Now</em>.”</p>
<p>The two guards exchange a look, before grabbing their weapons and starting to haul themselves up the stairs.</p>
<p>              “I need to find out what’s going on,” Gwen told Merlin. “Stay here, okay?”</p>
<p>She expected a sassy response; Merlin to say ‘where else am I going to go?’, but instead he was backing away from the bars, hands clamping over his ears.</p>
<p>              “Merlin?” Gwen asked. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Merlin’s gaze flickered to her for just a second, and he tried for a grin. It came out strained. “You should—go. Help Gaius. He needs you.”</p>
<p>              “He does?” Gwen was immediately alert, straightening. “What’s happened?”</p>
<p>              “<em>Go</em>,” Merlin hissed, shaking his head and stumbling back until he hit the wall. “Wrong, wrong, wrong,” he started to mutter, the words almost a chant, barely audible.</p>
<p>And Gwen wanted to stay, to work out what was upsetting Merlin, but—he’d told her to leave. So leave she did.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Cornelius Sigan’s magic was a siren’s call, whipping through the air like a hurricane. Merlin wanted to give in, to surrender, to join forces with the powerful sorcerer and <em>bathe</em> in the magic lashing at the castle.</p>
<p>But—</p>
<p><em>No, no, no</em>.</p>
<p><em>This is wrong</em>, he reminded himself. <em>Wrong, wrong, wrong</em>.</p>
<p>              “You are not what I expected,” Sigan murmured, leaning in closer, until his hand was brushing Merlin’s cheek. “You…you are drawn to my magic, are you not?”</p>
<p>Merlin refused to let himself nod, even as his breathing sped up in time with the glide of Sigan’s magic through the air, sweeping and soaring.</p>
<p>              “No,” he bit out. “I’m—not.”</p>
<p>But he was. Because—maybe the Mabon ceremony unlocked something in him, something deep inside that had turned Sigan’s powerful magic into a temptation.</p>
<p>              “Don’t worry,” Sigan said, taking a step back.</p>
<p>Merlin couldn’t hide his breath of relief.</p>
<p>              “When one is as powerful as you or I, magic is so…delicious. I would be disappointed if one with your, your...<em>strength</em> wasn’t called to my magic.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Why didn’t the dragon warn me about this?</em>
</p>
<p>              “Go fuck yourself.”</p>
<p>Sigan laughed, and the sound was nasally. “If you join me, we could rule the world together. You would no longer need to follow that horrible prince, but instead…instead, I could help you unlock your true power.”</p>
<p>              “<em>No</em>.”</p>
<p>              “Think, Merlin,” Sigan said. His voice rang oddly in the devastated courtyard. “You could let the world know how great you truly are. You could let <em>Arthur </em>know how powerful you are.”</p>
<p>Sigan clearly knew what he was doing, or was at least very good at faking it until he was making it, because his words struck a bruise, deep in Merlin’s chest.</p>
<p>And for a moment, just a moment, the temptation was too great, and Merlin found his mouth opening as he thought <em>yes, yes, let me join you, let me dance in your magic, let me bring peace to Camelot, let me put an end to this killing</em>—</p>
<p>But—</p>
<p>              “No,” he said again, his resolve strengthening. “Never. I don’t want that.”</p>
<p>Sigan’s face wrinkled up. “You’d rather be a <em>servant</em>.”</p>
<p>              “Better to serve a good man than rule with an evil one.”</p>
<p>Cornelius Sigan did not like that response, and then he was crumpling Cedric’s body like it was made of paper and a thin line of blue lifeforce was surging towards Merlin, and all he could do was pray that the spell the dragon had given him would work.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>              “Merlin, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Gwen said, shifting slightly in her seat, “but how <em>did </em>you know that Cedric was evil?”</p>
<p>Now that the danger had passed, Gwen felt she had the time and ability to actually ask. In the moment, she would trust Merlin with her life – but now, in the aftermath, she would always have questions.</p>
<p>              “Gaius recognised the sign thingy from the tomb – you know, those things that nobles have to be like ‘I’m a fancy noble who’s better than you.’”</p>
<p>Gwen tried to suppress her giggles at Merlin’s description, because moving might mess up his plaiting work, but she fondly said, “You mean a signet?”</p>
<p>              “<em>That’s </em>the one!”</p>
<p>Merlin laughed too then, and although Gwen couldn’t see him because he was stood behind her, she knew his face would be doing the adorable thing it always did when he was happy.</p>
<p>              “Now,” Merlin said, “for the end of the flowers: do I do it under and over, or over and under?”</p>
<p>The long thread that held Gwen’s family’s wooden flowers together was brushing against the back of her neck, but she refrained from telling Merlin that he easily had enough left to do another loop of two.</p>
<p>              “With my left section of hair, you go under the thread, then over the right,” she told him.</p>
<p>              “The left goes over the right?”</p>
<p>Gwen nodded, then stilled when Merlin’s grip on her hair yanked it slightly. “Left goes over the right,” she confirmed.</p>
<p>              “But only after I’ve gone under the thread?”</p>
<p>              “Yep.”</p>
<p>Merlin huffed out a breath. “Okay. Then I just do the loopy thing?”</p>
<p>              “Then you just do the loopy thing,” Gwen said. She’d tried explaining the proper terms to Merlin, but it was easier when he made up his own names for thing; he was more likely to remember them.</p>
<p>And…he was already being so kind, in learning how to plait her hair in the very specific and complicated way her mother’s side of the family had been doing for generations.</p>
<p>Morgana had even commented on Gwen’s braid the other day, remarking that she hadn’t seen Gwen wear her hair like that for a while. Of course, that statement had been followed up by a question about whether she needed a mirror, so she could see her hair while she did it, to which Gwen had winced.</p>
<p>Merlin was trying, he was really was, and he was one of the sweetest people Gwen knew. But he wasn’t exactly the best at plaiting.</p>
<p>He was getting better, certainly, but both of them knew that he had a way to go before he was as good at it as Gwen’s father had been.</p>
<p>              “Thank you,” she murmured very suddenly.</p>
<p>She could almost hear Merlin’s frown; his confusion. “What for?”</p>
<p>              “For…everything,” Gwen said. “You’ve done so much for me, after my father’s death…”</p>
<p>Merlin didn’t say anything for a moment, just finishing off Gwen’s braid, before he moved around the stool so they could see each other face-to-face again. “I haven’t done that much. Besides, you helped just as much when Will died. That’s what friends do: they have each other’s backs.”</p>
<p>Gwen gave him a smile. “I know.”</p>
<p>              “Good,” Merlin said. “Now. How do you feel about joining me in my hunt for herbs that’ll turn Arthur’s precious golden hair green?”</p>
<p>He held out an arm and raised an eyebrow, an invitation just like they’d seen Sir Kay do when he asked Lady Isrelden to accompany him to the feast that night. Except without any of the political and romantic motivations. No matter what Morgana clearly suspected.</p>
<p>Because Merlin was an incredibly dear friend to Gwen.</p>
<p>Gwen snorted, shaking her head as she hopped down from the stool. “You,” she told him teasingly, “are one of the most foolish men I know. And I grew up hearing Leon’s stories about all the ridiculous things the knights-in-training got up to.”</p>
<p>              “Foolish?” Merlin’s second eyebrow joined his first. “I’m not <em>foolish</em>. I’m…” He frowned as he searched for a word.</p>
<p>              “Ridiculous?” Gwen suggested. “Silly? Likely to get yourself thrown in the dungeons, again?”</p>
<p>Merlin pouted. “I’m sure I won’t get myself thrown in the dungeons.”</p>
<p>              “You were sure last time, too,” Gwen said. “And what did you do? You got yourself thrown in the dungeons.”</p>
<p>              “But I made a plan, and everything.”</p>
<p>The words were practically a whine, and Gwen couldn’t help her grin at how absurd her best friend was.</p>
<p>              “I bet there are other people you can prank, without the same consequences.”</p>
<p>              “I suppose,” Merlin said, quiet and a little sulkily. He considered other victims for a brief moment, before his face lit up with an idea. “How about Kay?”</p>
<p>              “He’s got a date to the feast tonight,” Gwen reminded Merlin. “He and Lady Isrelden have been pining after each other for <em>months</em>. That wouldn’t be kind.”</p>
<p>But she had to admit that the idea <em>was </em>an appealing one.</p>
<p>              “He’s a prick,” Merlin said. “Remember when he shouted at that kid, the new servant? Tyr, or something.”</p>
<p>Gwen did remember that; she’d been the one to subtly catch Leon’s attention, so he could distract Kay for long enough to get the eleven-year-old away before he burst into tears.</p>
<p>              “Okay,” Gwen said, because although she didn’t often call people names, she had to agree that Kay had been a prick. “What herbs do we need?”</p>
<p>              “I knew you’d come around!” Merlin’s grin was splitting his face open. “Okay, so Gaius has most of the herbs for the green colouring, but Kay’s got dark hair. We’ll need to make it lighter for the green dye.”</p>
<p>              “Dye?” Gwen repeated, giving Merlin a look. “Didn’t you say <em>colouring</em>?”</p>
<p>              “…I did say that, yes.”</p>
<p>Sighing with exasperation, Gwen asked, “Just how permanent is this stuff, Merlin?”</p>
<p>              “Not very?” It sounded far more like a question than an answer, and Merlin seemed to realise it too, because he pasted his best smile on his face.</p>
<p>Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m going to take that to mean ‘extremely permanent’.”</p>
<p>              “<em>Well</em>…”</p>
<p>              “Don’t worry,” Gwen told Merlin. “Just this once, I don’t mind.”</p>
<p>Merlin perked up. “Really?”</p>
<p>              “You’re right. Kay can be a nasty person, and he deserves to be shown that.”</p>
<p>              “Aw, you’re just trying to make up excuses,” Merlin said. “I know you too well, you love doing this sort of thing.”</p>
<p>Gwen snorted, letting out a huffed laugh as she smiled down at her feet. “…Maybe.”</p>
<p>              “Great!” Merlin exclaimed. “This is great!”</p>
<p>              “I can handle dying his hair paler,” Gwen said. “A friend of mine re-coloured her hair recently, she wanted it golden, and I helped her with it.”</p>
<p>              “Excellent,” Merlin said. “The question is when to apply it to Kay.”</p>
<p>              “Most of the knights are going to get drunk at the feast tonight,” Gwen said. “If we catch him once he’s gone to bed, he should be sleeping pretty deeply.”</p>
<p>              “I heard that Lady Iseldren’s going to wear that low-cut dress of hers,” Merlin added, “you know, the one that shows off half her chest?”</p>
<p>Gwen whacked his arm, and Merlin let out a dramatic cry of pain, recoiling from her.</p>
<p>              “What was that for?”</p>
<p>              “Don’t be rude about Lady Iseldren’s dresses,” Gwen told him, a little sharp. “I’ve had to hear enough talk about her ‘shapely curves’ already. None of the knights seem to notice when there’s a servant in the room.”</p>
<p>              “I’m not being rude,” Merlin said, holding up his hands in mock-surrender. “I’ve never talked about anyone’s ‘shapely curves’! Just…saying that her maid is well-known for her scandalous dresses.”</p>
<p>Gwen relaxed. “Good.”</p>
<p>There was a pause, and then Merlin asked, a curious frown on his face, “Does Leon say that sort of thing too? It’s just…he doesn’t seem the type.”</p>
<p>              “Oh, he’s not the type,” Gwen said. “Not interested in any of that stuff.” She paused, and then asked, “Why does Lady Iseldren’s dress matter?”</p>
<p>              “Well, Kay’s one of those weird nobles, right? They won’t sleep with anyone if they’re not courting them.”</p>
<p>Gwen blinked, taken aback. “I…yes?”</p>
<p>              “So he’s going to be horny, and drunk, which is going to make him sleepy, which is the perfect time to dye his hair.” Merlin gave her a bright, disarming grin. “Awesome plan, right?”</p>
<p>              “That…is a surprisingly good plan,” Gwen said. “Okay, so where in the forest do we find these herbs?”</p>
<p>Merlin grinned, and brushed a scrap of hay from Gwen’s braid before pulling his map out from his pocket and flattening it on the table.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remember when ‘sensible’ Gwen heard that there was a pretty man who was friends with Merlin and wanted to be a knight, and was immediately down with breaking the law for him? Yeah…no one can tell me she isn’t chaotic as fuck at times.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! praise sustains me, so please give kudos/comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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